War of the Bats
by Robin Wingster
Summary: Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.
1. Remembrance on the Beginning of the End

**_Author's Notes: _**_This chapter contains many material from recent and some history of the comics, and is probably the heaviest on that of all, things will 'mellow' on content from next chapter on. As a comic-reader who knows no boundaries in moderation this will be applied with common knowledge from said sources. Must pinpoint that the expertise point in here is anything Batman related, and while some characters of the whole DC Universe may not be my first pick, everything portrayed happens for an ultimate reason in here. I've got no intentions on flaming anyone's favorite characters at anything seeing this is a product of my thoughts. Also, pairings will form eventually. This story will contain slash as well, even if it's from minor to greater points. If you don't like it don't read._

**_Disclaimer: _**_All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

**_Summary:_**_Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot._

**_Eventual Pairings: _**_Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

**_Warning(s):_**_ Foul language, and mentions of death._

_Thursday November 3rd, 2011 **Words:** 4,460_

**_Edited: _**_Wednesday Agust 20th, 2014_**_ Words: _**_4,503_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter I.- Remembrance on the Beginning of the End._

It started one Monday morning all those years ago. Cassandra, being the representative of Batman Incorporated on the Far East came out with a very strong lead on the head of 'Leviathan(1)', something that meant a one-of-a-kind opportunity to seize the ten-thousand or so heads that were part of Leviathan's army before it went all-the-way to a Global scale.

Of course Bruce was the first to know.

Cass went after her father immediately, providing all the information she had on the lead and requesting Bruce's presence to secure the assignment that could possibly mean having an advantage against the enemy.

It all came downwards after that.

Everyone knew how Bruce Wayne, the first Batman, kept things close-to-the-chest when it came to his own investigations, enemies, and city. His overzealous nature bordering on obsession with everything that involved Gotham City was well-known among the other capes—especially the ones who were _Metas._ The only one who were truly allowed the liberty to meddle in his business—and not without too many liberties—were the members of his family, and all the same, they themselves were within that overzealous hold of the Wayne Patriarch.

So when word came-out to the rest of the superheroes' community about the return of the Bat, and subsequently, the foundation of 'Batman Incorporated' declared to the world, no-one had any idea of what to think; this coming from a man that preferred his solitude and kept his reservations with even those who claimed to know him best. Members of the League attempted to take part of this new team of Batmen; to offer their aid, support, or knowledge to the billionaire without success, Bruce remaining adamant on any forming part of his special brigade of closest allies, or as usual, about sharing his private business and motives behind his actions.

In a place where ego's are concerned many were left with a sour taste; being frowned-upon and neglected of their services when something clearly important was going-on right under their noses.

High numbers of neglected ones broke-up their relationships with the Dark Knight and his partners, while others tried to go towards the more friendly-ones in search of answers, finding the Younger Batman of Gotham City far more understanding and easy to get along with; or Red Robin and the Outsiders more indulgent on distributing Intel; the new girl on England amicable enough to share since she was once frowned-upon; even the quiet-one in Hong Kong a better reliable source, though it went with no accomplishment. The children knew how to keep their mouths shut; not directly enunciating their refusal to allocate what others were so fervently trying to find-out, but clearly establishing where boundaries stood.

Superman was the first option. If Batman had seen something on his Travel-through-time important enough to be handing-out Bat-costumes around the World, it certainly concerned every-member of the Society. Who better than the Man of Steel to know what all the secrecy was about?

It didn't work. Bruce sent Clark home without as much as a "_We're working on it_" coupled with a closed-door. Conner went next, his relationship with Tim not quite defined but special in their working, nevertheless returning with the exact same four words as his source, and his heart-aching. Kara tried after him, working to gather-up her courage for something that was clearly unheard of—since when had Tim and Conner _not _shared anything bosses be damned?—as she went to Stephanie's apartment on England. Three days later she came to the Fortress of Solitude just as withdrawn Superboy had. Whilst none of the two teenagers had been disdainful with their friends, the wound of being sent home nothing short of the same sentence stung.

Wally(2) had talked with the other three of the original Fab Five(3) in-regards to their 'Fearless Leader'; the four being preoccupied the Romani was taking a toll with the enormous pressure of keeping his place with his family. Even still, the group knew Dick enough to let the young man decide if he needed them, hoping he would reach for them before he got his ass backhanded to him.

The Gothamite Clan had openly declared that it wasn't anyone's business but their own. Nothing that unusual and yet oddly unheard-of all the same.

Bruce had sent word to his associates of Batman Inc. of Black Bat(4)'s findings, arriving on Hong Kong immediately afterwards to deal with the matters and leaving the others to stand-by in case they were needed.

They were.

When in Hong Kong, Bruce and Cass got intercepted with numerous calls from their agents stating impressive precise-military attacks on their respective bases. They got detained on the sewers, fighting their way-back on what was obviously a set-up to have the Original busy elsewhere while Leviathan ran wild. Batwing(5) was the first to make a complete report in the middle of the assault. Mtamba was suffering serious losses and everything was engulfed by flames; an impressive number of two-thousand or so burning Africa, taking the youngsters and leaving death behind them. Some superheroes on their own part of the league or not went there too, having heard the distress-calls from the African government, but they weren't nearly enough to contain that level of massacre.

El Gaucho(6) came-up next. The state of Argentina was so bad that the Cartels were partaking in the battle to regain their floor. Military rampaging against the Drug Lords and those of Leviathan invading their country—hijacking their children; blood and inferno everywhere they went. Gaucho stated a number close to that of three-thousand on their backs; bodies splaying all-over the place, and not near-enough man power or bat-technology to defend their posts for longer.

By the time Santiago had made full-contact, Oracle, who was under-ground on Australia assisting the Dark Ranger(7) on his own Crisis, had already went past Wayne Tech R.B. computer's hardware and released the G.I. Robots(8) at Dick's orders. Lucius Fox had managed to come-up with eight-hundred-and-fifty-seven models before he met his supposed demise(9), having to enforce himself on the design of better Jet-Suits(10) for the Bat-members. They weren't nearly enough to scout-out their enemies, and Barbara drove the G.I.'s in equal numbers to Paris, where Nightrunner(11) was overwhelmed by riots of the citizens against the government, himself, and Leviathan's deadly attacks; to Mr. Unknown(12) in Japan, who had managed to fend-off a small group while taking cover to prepare for a counter-attack, other heroes in the area giving him a hand to free the citizens from the hits; she gave Great Britain special detail to attention, since Batgirl(13) was on another sector and had managed to rendezvous along with the Knight(14) and Squire(15), having a more organized front towards the enemy but with pretty much the same casualties; The Hood(16) hadn't made contact with any of them, and was reported as M.I.A. to their band in the meantime; Argentina came next on her list, seeing as Santiago was clearly losing his precise footing; and along came the others, leaving Kate Kane, the current Batwoman with the last pack of her G.I's back on Washington(17).

Dick had instructed Tim to proceed with their plans with the Outsiders' help, while he and Robin, along with no more than a hundred of G.I.'s stood on their posts to guard Gotham. He'd also sent word to his Original Team of standing-put on their places and prepare for the worst. Alfred had proven himself as dutiful and resourceful as ever as he assisted Oracle on commanding half-the-extent of the G.I.'s via the Internet 3.0 that Bruce had engineered on the bunker, permitting at the same time the space the redhead needed in order to locate Bruce and Cass to deal with the aftermath in the plan they had created.

As reluctant as Red Robin was, he left Gotham in the capable hands of his brother and the devil-spawn who wore his former skin, fearing the consequences. It wasn't a matter of trust on Dick protecting their city—their _base, _but this scenario reminded him of the last Crisis they all had to face when Bruce was lost in time and space, and he hoped Dick, Alfred, and even Damian wouldn't come to harm. The Outsiders where effective in their attacks, having all been previously instructed by Batman (like all his Agents) of this eventual scenario. The real issue came in the early date it started. According to Bruce, Leviathan wasn't going to make his move for another good six-months; a shock to every party-member when all inexplicably went south.

They lasted two weeks before Batman and Black Bat escaped their holdings, managing Hong Kong rather nicely and attempted communications with their allies. By this time, the casualties were vast. Bruce had expected considerable numbers, nonetheless not at the present scale. Hong Kong was the first one to accomplish a semblance of control before they took England away.

Batgirl, The Knight, Squire and the Hood were forced to retreat to Belgium, where an impressive number of refugees from all-over Europe strained to get to Netherlands for asylum given by Hawkman and Powergirl, trying to get past Germany to the rendezvous point in Russia, where Nightrunner and Batwing where already established and in-charge of Security Measures; aiding those they managed to conceal on their respective points of the globe via Internet 3.0.

El Gaucho and Batwoman, the latter who had flew to help the Argentinean, weren't fairing any better: having returned to their base on Buenos Aires while trying to regain the control they lost four-days ago to the Cartels mistaking them for Leviathan—or just seizing the opportunity to _'displace of them'_ as Santiago stated. Red Robin and the Outsiders went searching for Batman and Black Bat, having been the ones who located their signals and on the role of taking them back to Gotham City where Dick and Damian had been forced to make use of the Jet-Suits, providing Gordon with one as well as many members of the Network Dick and Cass had created not that long ago around the Globe. They were the ones with the best control-point on their whole operations, maintaining their criminals under-lock in the Asylum and the City's streets as clean as they could under the circumstances.

Then it happened.

It was an understatement the madness that had engulfed the World, and the obvious deaths that came along with it. Many heroes had died already in the name of good and justice: Dove, Vixen, Gypsy, Guy Lantern, The Question, Hawkgirl and Plastic Man to name a few. The list was starting to seem endless, and under any-means none had the time to grieve for their losses with the extent of damage they were trying to deal with.

But nobody expected Huntress' end.

Then came the Green Lantern John Stewart.

Zatanna.

Powergirl.

Red Tornado.

Vaporlock

One by one they fell; in less than four-hours, six of the strongest Heroes had perished. Bruce and Cass followed the news with Tim and the Outsiders just as they reached the base in Russia. Paradise Island was offering refuge to women and children, Diana and Donna making their way to search for survivors. Cassie fighting alongside the remaining of the Teen Titans, trying to avoid thinking of her fallen teammates Starfire, Cyborg, and Garfield.

Aquaman had long-fallen, the Oceans now property of Leviathan and its minions attacking every port they could whilst Tempest had gone missing, presumed to be dead.

Garth wasn't the only one reported M.I.A.; amongst the more notorious were The Flash—Wally West, Kid Flash—Bart Allen, Red Arrow—Roy Harper, and Ravager—Rose Wilson.

Superman, for all it's worth and power was helpless against the attack, and he, as many others, began blaming Batman and his crew for it. Powergirl's death weighted him down, Lois safe on Paradise Island, but the damage done. Conner, Kara and Cir-El used the Fortress as haven for any who needed it, having put their brawns for more useful purposes.

Helena's death was a waking call. And Batman went with his Plan 'C', establishing the severity of the situation as Maximum, and resulting in something he did not wanted to undertake since his beginning of having the cowl-the time before his first Robin wiped the idea away from him:

_No mercy_.

Leviathan killed, and while they would never place themselves to that level, Bruce wasn't going to restrain-himself any longer.

He sent the signal, his associates receiving the call and preparing themselves for the worst they would probably do against enemy lines:

_Biological warfare._

They had two-days to secure as many streets as they could before the beginning of Phase One. Red Robin was the first to go. Germany, while it hadn't its Batman Inc. representative, was under the care of the Bats, and had-like all the main capitals they could take care-of on that time-frame-a safe Base for any refugees. The Outsiders took their role in taking them to safety, assisted with the G.I.'s on Alfred's hands while in the meantime, Red Robin and Metamorpho used an improved advanced system Dr. Crane applied with his fear-gas toxins. Already with the antidotes inside their systems while they infected any-enemy in-line.

Soon, they all spread in the same manner; regaining control slowly by incapacitating Leviathan's army with a mix of Scarecrow's improved-toxin and some heavy snake's poison that guaranteed madness with temporal paralysis for 48 to 72-hours top. The remaining G.I.'s serving their purpose in apprehending those already taken care-of.

On their return to Gotham, on the 28th-day since the attack, while troops were salvaging their Countries and there was a semblance of peace on most points, Stephanie Brown, a.k.a. Batgirl, was taken prisoner and ransomed to her partners by the British Government and members of the League.

The blame went full-on to the Bats for the attack-even when Leviathan had already been seized for the most part, the majority of the captured children returned to their parents or guardians, and Wayne Enterprises was helping to rebuild the cities.

The only remaining Teen Titan, current Wonder Girl 'Cassie', (Superboy and Raven had been declared missing a week since the riots started) was part of this group of extremists that wasn't content with Batman Inc. Outrage inside her family flew at the sight of Stephanie Brown being unmasked on International Exposure. Bruce, Dick, Cass and Tim demanding her release, with no positive responses from others on their line of work. Even Damian spoke against such acts, demanding her freedom while Stephanie was transferred immediately afterwards to the Fortress of Solitude—undamaged—after the request of Superman, where he assured the authorities and publicly guaranteed to the World the imprisonment of the rest of the Batcrew.

Batman got angry.

The situation went awry.

Mr. Unknown was the next they captured, Dark Ranger and The Hood not having escaped their grasp for long, all of them unmasked and held for shame. Even Kara seemed unwilling to help Stephanie, keeping her on straight vigilance. A day didn't pass for the secrets to get-out. The residual members of the League didn't care any-longer for their identities to remain anonymous if it meant the multiple Batmen got to stay free. Months of resentment and days of world-massacre after massacre got them irate, blind, _furious_ with the ones that threw humankind to the pits of hell.

Word got out. Bruce Wayne was Batman. And the World went mad.

It suddenly made sense. His bank accounts got frozen-not even Selina was capable to get past the vaults without risk being captured. Barbara was in-hiding on Russian underground-land and trying her best to use their Intel to their advantage. The bank accounts were not the only places were his money, his inversions, his properties were, but soon, every government took away what it could from Bruce Wayne and any of his Associates. Barbara and Lucius prevailed on saving the majority of Bruce's fortune on John Doe's secret Id's Bruce had created in case an eventually such as this proceeded.

Naturally the Mansion was the first place the authorities went to take care of; Jim Gordon opting for resigning his job and going into-hiding with Barbara with the help of Bruce, who later revealed her double-life as the first Batgirl years ago to her father.

Superman was the leader of the whole orchestra; demanding others to step-aside as he checked the Cave—not one citizen permitted to pass—and found it intoxicated with the green venom for his kin. Hal went to aid him, the whole Mansion submerged to microscopic levels of Kryptonite to ensure a form of protection and all of Superman's specialized protective-gears missing. The Mansion in itself was empty of relevant accessories. Rooms of his children vacant, paintings gone, wardrobe in-existent, furniture, mementos of their life marking the place as once full gone; making the gigantic ceilings and grand spaces give the illusion of a Monastery long forgotten. Underground (even the majestic Grandfather clock without trail) a suiting reflection was discovered: the cars, helicopters, submarines, weapons, uniforms—there was _nothing _significant in the Cave. Not the damn Dinosaur, or even the Penny; not the revered computer, and it left Clark with a sour taste on his mouth as he flew with the speed of light to the bunker, where he knew Dick had his Center base to find it like the remaining Green Lantern reported the Cave before being summoned away from Earth to the Guardians.

If Bruce—if Dick who was more understanding and rational than the old-man had informed them of what could happen the repercussions could have been avoided.

Knight and Squire got detained when they tried to break Stephanie and the others free, likewise receiving the donning of their capes. Diana refused to form part of this whole charade and confronted Superman on Gotham about his actions, until she found-out about Donna's missing state.

For three consecutive days they captured most of them: El Gaucho, Batwoman, Nightrunner, Batwing and the Outsiders. All held-up in different chambers with the rest of their team in the Fortress of Solitude.

They knew Bruce was waiting for the perfect opportunity to arise and free his allies. And they waited. In the meantime, the people were demanding payment for their blood. The destruction on a Worldwide scale was bad-terribly so that public nation went with their rage and blamed the Bats just like everyone else was doing it. It was an understatement that Bruce and his children were accustomed to being labeled bad at the public's eye, but they were demanding an eye-for-an-eye. Blood for Blood.

Cass came-up with a plan.

It involved Selina and Dick at her side, and Damian was fast to protest. His mother had vanished, probably taking part on this whole 'Hating Batmen' propaganda, and even if he didn't want to admit it, he was scared. He feared that if Stephanie and the others got caught, Dick and Bruce would share the same fate. It wasn't that he didn't have confidence in their abilities, or that he didn't wish to rescue his allies, but couldn't it involve someone else rather than Dick?

"Dick's agile and stealthy. Just like Selina and me. Better." Cassandra told him on their Underground Facility of Gotham's roots in the ocean. "We _need _to be covert."

"So send Drake and the harlot for all I care! Grayson stays _here_! _Batman _and _Robin _stay **_together!_**" Damian gritted-out to the girl while taking a protective stance in front of his older-brother. Tim glared at him from the corner of his eye standing next to Bruce, but Damian paid-him no mind. Grayson wasn't going anywhere near those aliens and trash without **_him_**.

"Damian," his father called-out in his gruff-voice and Damian spared him a glance before returning his glare against assassin while taking a defensive-stand in-case he needed violence to make his point.

"_Father,_" he responded with irritation directed at the source. Why wasn't his father doing anything? He should know better than to risk his best soldier—though it pained to admit it—to the War for such a foolish action. Grayson's place was here until they came-up with a decent-strategy to prevail and return everything with as much a semblance to normalcy as they could given the recent turn of circumstances.

Even Todd was off-their radars. The pathetic excuse of a former Robin only communicating with Dick at undefined intervals to send him Intel of their current enemies.

Selina smirked and shook her head at his actions, obviously entertained though Damian couldn't care less for her. What her father saw in such an indecent-fickle female was beyond him.

"Every minute that goes-by we leave our troops to their luck, and I will not permit it any longer. Black Bat has a plan, and so far it's the best that's been discussed. We're doing it._ No debate_." Bruce said with his cowl in-place and cold-voice, making Damian's shoulders shiver in fear at the memory of the only time his father raised his voice at him.

"Then _I _am going too." The boy snarled in determination; clenching the knives he had on both hands. "If Grayson's going then _I _am going as well. Batman _needs _Robin." He repeated widening his stance.

"_No._" Bruce's reply was firm. Decision made.

"But-!" Damian started to retaliate when Bruce cut him off.

"You will only hinder them on their mission." The elder bat said and ignored Alfred's disapproving stare on his way.

"I am fully capable to stand my own-ground and have proven vastly on different occasions that I'm no hindrance _whatsoever!"_ The ten-year-old shouted at his sire with his face hot-in-anger. Sensing movement behind him, he chanced a glance to see the oddly-quiet Grayson moving to stand beside him and placing one glove-less hand on his left shoulder; immediately turning to provide him his whole attention, but not before glaring at the other five individuals that shared this hideout with the Duo.

"Damian," Grayson started with a calm voice, and Damian knew what he was going to say before he even voiced-it.

"You _promised._" He growled in low-tones such as only Dick could hear him, and with a meaningful-look the last Flying Grayson gave the others, they backed-away as much as possible to give them the privacy they could on such a reduced space. It was enough for Damian. "You said we were _partners. _That we had each others' backs_._" Damian trembled as the words left his mouth and saw the acrobat clench his jaw momentarily.

"We are Damian," the older male told him in soft tones, a small smile gracing his attractive young-face when he looked at him, "but right now the other Batman needs you here." He told him with that stupid logic of his, and Damian's jaw tightened. "Sometimes Robin needs to step-down and watch from the sidelines; and I need someone here that I can trust to keep the Dynamic Duo kicking if something goes wrong."

**_Mistake._**

Damian's navy-eyes hardened as he dropped his knives and tugged Grayson's collar; his cowl down just like every-single time he wasn't on public view left his shocked-expression nude for the boy when he pulled-him to his level and glared heatedly at his partner.

"'_If something goes wrong?'_ " He mimicked the twenty-five year old's(18) voice ignoring Drake's yell to release Grayson, "How _dare _you to expect me to stand-by while you _acknowledge _the probability of you getting _caught in the fucking fire?!" _Damian screamed in his rage, and Dick's serene-smile only made his eyes water some more. It was infuriating.

"Damian, I'm not going to lie to you. You deserve better than that." Grayson told him softly without missing-a-beat and Damian had to swallow a big lump on his throat just as something in his chest throbbed-painfully. The masses had been demanding blood in retaliation for hours now, and the governments supported that claim. It was up to the capes if such was going to be the punishment, and so far, it appeared so.

If Grayson was quick to recognize it as a fact, then there wasn't much doubt to it. They were going to kill them.

"_Dammit Grayson! Shut. Up!_" The youngest Wayne growled at the young-adult. His shoulders shook and his legs gave-up on him, so he fell to his knees uneven and fighting the urge to release unwanted tears. He knew that tone, and it meant his Batman was determined beyond any reason to change cause, and that only meant that he would never come back. That he would never be his Batman to his Robin.

Gentle but strong arms surrounded his small figure, and for the first time, Damian Wayne didn't care if there were witnesses to see him when he returned the hug with as much force as his body allowed him and closed his eyes to ensure no water came out from them; both lanky arms gripping the Roma's lean back as he was held on the floor with a warm low-calming lullaby of his only friend in the world to soothe him away.

He was unaware of the dead-uncomfortable silence on the sidelines. They were the only ones left. The last seven—if Red Hood and Oracle weren't accounted for—of the family still standing, and despite their best efforts to ignore the possible negative outcomes, the crew knew that the risks were too-high, and the possibilities of being caught likely.

But was else could they do?

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><p>(1)<em> A mysterious Criminal Organization that's Batman's main enemy on his new comic's Batman Incorporated.<em>

(2)_ Current Flash. I love Wallace Rudolph West. And the original Teen Titans (dammit reboot. They actually left Dick without friends-seeing as Roy is currently with Jays not seemingly interested in his best bro)._

(3)_ Lian is alive; Roy still has his arm, and is working with the League. That's what it should have been instead of messing up with him again. I hate how Roy can't catch a break._

(4)_ A.k.a. Cassandra Cain._

(5)_ A.k. Zavimbi._

(6)_ A.k.a. Santiago Vargas._

(7)_ See 'Batman Incorporated 006'._

(8)_ Potential-remote-control Soldiers with cut-edge-technology to support Batman's war on crime made by Wayne Tech. with Lucius Fox. See 'Batman: The Return.'_

(9)_ See 'Red Robin 023'._

(10)_ Suits that provide increase human strength, and endurance as well as short-range flight capabilities to support Batman's war on crime made by Wayne Tech. with Lucius Fox. See 'Batman: The Return'._

(11)_ A.k.a. Bilal Asselah._

(12)_ A.k.a. Jiro Osamu._

(13)_ A.k.a. Stephanie Brown. _

(14)_ A.k.a. Cyril Sheldrake._

(15)_ A.k.a. Beryl Hutchinson._

(16)_ British super-spy._

(17)_ Important city. Need her there._

(18)_ This age fits best._

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><p><em>~Author's Notes Edited:<br>_

_Chapter changed many-typos that had either grammatical errors, or just weren't fitting. It changed slightly, but only on narrative procedures; no events were changed, removed or upgraded to this Chapter. Hopefully it's better to the taste.  
><em>


	2. A Bird's Cut Flight

**_Author's Notes: _**_The following chapter is the second part of the Prologue relayed so far, like I said before, it's easier to digest on historical content for this story, nonetheless, I must warn it remained quite heavy after several editing. From here on, the chapters will flow with the present time, six years into the future, taking into account these events occurred on 2011, unless it involves flashbacks from characters, in which case there will be a page-break addressing the estimated date and location from it. Characters ages will be addressed on parts of the story, if not, I'll add a table for each one as they appear along. Pairings will appear later on as the characters evolve. Once again, it's not my intention flaming anyone's favorite characters, only to use them for specific purposes that work best with me, even if the situations are far from their normal attitudes, seeing this aren't normal circumstances. If you don't like it don't read.  
><strong><br>Disclaimer:**All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><strong><em><br>Summary:_**_Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><strong><br>Eventual Pairings:**Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

**_Warning(s):_** _Foul language, some violence, major character's death._

_Wednesday November 09th, 2011 **Words:** 4,421_

_**Edited:** Thursday August 21st, 2014 **Words:** 4,498_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter II.- A Bird's Cut Flight._

The hit went unexpected, all according to plan. Even with Metas guarding the fortress, the three of them handled the situation expertly—two already knowing the premises—holding the imprisonment of the others to be doomed the minute they saw fit, while avoiding unnecessary actions that would turn the escape into something nasty. The agreement came for the first escapee to be Beryl, seeing she was the youngest of the group; no more than two minutes next, Stephanie was to follow her to the lair wherein they would use what Lucius Fox had created (really outdoing himself): a miniscule-transporter ready to place them beneath the Lake of Baikal (1) with both Gordon-family members once DNA verification was solved, given it was the safest hiding place they possessed at the present moment.

Hollow mannequins were already on their places substituting the originals and with Batman on-watch, Catwoman drove Beryl into the secret passages they made, reaching the farthest-point away to ensure covertness and the signal needed to teleport them back-and-forth; Black Bat on their tracks with Stephanie on tow. They returned shortly-after, insured by Oracle's confirmation and went with Bilal and Kate next. The artifacts were truly marvelous consisting only of a chip that attached to anything, creating a hologram to camouflage into what worked best on the carrier; in this case, rings and earrings. The plan was running smoothly, and that gave Batman reason to be on-edge. It seemed far-fetched that so far all was running-smoothly without any problem, even with the precautions taken.

Back on Gotham, Bruce, Alfred, Tim and Damian remained prepared, watching their companions' every move on the computer stashed under-seas with anticipation. Tim kept trying to reassure both elders that Dick and Cass were experts, while Selina wasn't a top-thief for nothing, but Damian could tell by the slight unsteadiness on his whispers that the teen wasn't without doubt.

Santiago and Cyril were the last ones to go, the Outsiders before them, and when Selina gave Dick the signal the current Batman nodded, taking his place under the shadows of the frigid land while he examined the contraptions made by Red Robin and Alfred for the rest of the plan. The mannequins were just empty faceless-dolls which weren't in any way precise in mimicking their friends' appearances; only bulks clothed with their acquaintances' wardrobes and bad wigs atop their heads. But Kryptonians were easy to fool; only needing a heartbeat and scents to go by, and so far, Dick had turned-on each puppet's simulation of a heart—a ticking thing that the Butler and his second youngest-brother made-out of other pieces—the minute the four figures retreated to their escape method.

It was a fat-chance to think they could get away with relying on this simple method with fourteen people on the risk, luckily it proved enough.

"_D._" Was the message Batman got on his earpiece through Morse-code from Black Bat, signaling the job was _'done',_ and his queue that everyone was out.

He had one last thing to do before he took-off too, Dick mused climbing through a passage on the vent-systems of the cell-doors that held the puppets and making his way to the chamber where Superman spent most of his time. The hazard of getting trapped wasn't lost to the aerialist, but years on the job taught him to work-through his consternation, relaying his focus on doing the deed. He only needed to plant the devices near places Kent would likely dwell on his plans against them. Enough to permit them suitable counter-measures until this whole mess got settled.

Richard Grayson wasn't the original Boy Wonder for anything, and got the work done in less time than expected, ready to turn-heel and go back to base on Gotham when something disturbing caught his eye. Steadying his heartbeat before Kara or Mia (2) took notice, the vigilante felt his mouth dry when he watched horrified, both of his best friends laying immobile on their backs; with a small excuse for a sheet giving them modesty whereas two old-men on white-coats scribbled on tables making unknown notes. Wally and Roy had been missing for a week now, and he'd done everything in his power to find both of his friends without so much of a hint. It was unbelievable to find them here, on Superman's _home_, unconscious, and defenseless and _naked, _and something deep-and-buried on Dick's head _snapped._

Mind made-up the slits of the cowl glowered, already double-checking his surroundings in the space of four-seconds and so, he delved into the shadows of his hide: becoming one with the darkness.

Chaos was the only possible result on rescuing two full-grown men on plain sight against the whole fortress's inhabitants. Cass and Selina were long gone, but Dick refused to turn-tail on his best friends; with four batarangs aimed at their targets he knocked-out both doctors once they pierced their skin with heavy amounts of the biological warfare they've been using on Leviathan's troops-the other two destroying the security cameras. He leap without losing momentum, injecting both redheads with extreme doses of adrenaline shots he had on his belt—he'd read the doctors tables beforehand from afar—making them turn bewildered stares of blue and green before the sirens cried-out.

"_Come on! Let's go!_" He shouted them amongst the noise, and only to years of knowing each other was Wally was quick on his feet to carry both his friends—thank god for adrenaline highs—and direct them towards Dick's instructed site with the Man of Steel close on their heels.

The young Batman activated the signal in one-second, taking off the ring and barely shoving it to Roy's open-hand before he got tackled to the other side of the tunnel by the eldest Kryptonian; the two former captives long-gone in a colorless dash. Kara and Mia were quick to restrain the former-bird, holding him-up with Dick knowing better than to struggle against the aliens.

"_Dick. What_ have you _done?_" Superman gritted out angrily, eyes flaming red when Dick gave his well-known grin easily under the cowl back at the man approaching.

"_Don't _mess with _family._" He responded cheekily raising his torso and lower body up in the air, slamming one foot, and then another on Clark's face, shocking him and his oppressors enough time to twist himself out of the hold of the younger kryptonians and flip his way into the narrower parts of ice and rock tunnels they made. Quickly, he pressed both gauntlet buttons on the far end of his wrists—without remorse now that he had seen Bowhead (3) and Twinkle toes (4) on their hold—the usual lead and Kevlar covering both gloves glowing an eerie red, his pair of boots displaying the same properties of induced red-kryptonite (5).

Bruce had made it simple—as had Damian and Tim—that none of them were to go to Kent's household without insurance—_real insurance. _Though red-kryptonite (and here he thanked Bruce's paranoia very, _very _much) properties were only effective one-time per stone, he and Damian had come-up with the idea of pulverizing the gems and then fusing them into the Kevlar material underneath the lead of his gloves and boots, just like they did the Mansion and Batcave. Perfectly removable as it was a little amount of one stone distributed on all four extremities quite smartly, and leaving a clear space for another layer of green kryptonite underneath, should the effects of the first become useless and he needed to buy himself more time.

Seeing as his escape was currently unavailable until his crew managed a way to reconstruct the bridge-signal on his current position and someone came through it, the raven-haired man barely tossed out of the way of a gigantic piece of ice and rock thrown at him, landing neatly on his feet while rushing upon the newly-formed entrance it created. He moved fast enough, hardly staying on the ground as he flipped from Cir-El to Supergirl, shoving his fists and feet on their personages efficiently before making a backwards somersault in the air to land neatly on Superman's face, leaving the Man of Steel groaning in pain; sprawled on the floor just like the other two with remainders of pulverized kryptonite making his exist not a second after.

He ignored the frantic calls from his crew, his mind working a mile-per hour to find a way-out, thus explaining what the presences of Wally and Roy meant on Gotham instead of himself. Security wasn't tight like they thought, obviously under the ridiculous assumptions that Clark, Kara, and Mia were everything this entire place needed to function accordingly.

Dick had always listened to Bruce when he said it was best choosing brains over brawn. It defined them, the younger Batman thought, successfully getting rid with an open-kick of both superhero sentinels—Guardian and Dr. Light (6)?—taken aback for a second time in the brief span of ten minutes when his eyes engulfed two-enormous tanks filled with some sick reddish-and-blue chemicals bubbling from inside. They were easily six meters tall, and Dick's stomach went queasy in recognition.

'_Leviathan.' _Was the word that crossed his mind, new theories making sense now that he put two-and-two together, running towards the crystal containers and downloading the stats on his Gauntlet's computer, red Kryptonite still glowing for the last member of the superman team—the dog. He finished, automatically sending it to Bruce and Barbara's places but not without taking a sample too, downloading it's components on the microfiber that was attached to the computer in his glove, just in case he didn't make it in time.

This was a prime reason to the whole thing, and Dick was just one man in the end; couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. He was expendable. The mission always came first. It was all that mattered.

Alarms kept shouting along the hallways, the refugees all-too scared to make a move on him, and no more people-in-spandex to give him more problems to handle. His travel about to end, the Roma was cut-short by a peculiar sound he recognized all too well, dodging on instinct alone with a high-jump followed by a 180 degree-flip in the air, consequently landing above said contents of chemicals to face Diana Prince, the Amazonian Queen, and Dinah Lance, also known as Black Canary behind her.

If anything it certainly made the situation very interesting.

* * *

><p>"<em>Dick!<em> This is Trailblazer (7) to Spearhead (8) _respond_!" Bruce growled to the microphone. Grunts, yelling—overall pandemonium had greeted them in the background before everything went dead-quiet in a span of twelve minutes.

Roy Harper and Wallace West had appeared in the place of Richard approximately an hour and forty-seven minutes ago; agitated with high doses of injected adrenaline while in the nude—it told them what they needed to know. None of the young men remembered much after being knocked-out on the battlefield seven days prior, just constant hazes and the inability to wake-up. They informed him Dick was suddenly with them in Superman's base, obeying his commandments without thought on getting out of there when suddenly their friend was shoved from their grasp and both parties were separated in the blink-of-an-eye as the contraption took its course.

Damian had lost it. Rampaging about their incompetence as alleged warriors that left them open and vulnerable to their enemy, leaving Dick with the misplaced-responsibility to see after them, resulting on getting himself trapped devoid of any means to return for their liability. Alfred had taken it upon himself to steady the boy. Bruce was trying to make contact with the aerialist while Cass and Selina gave the stats of the fort after lending some clothes to the disturbed men inside the cold Cave. Meanwhile Tim was hastily searching for the former Nightwing, trying to keep-up to the rapid movements his implanted GPS indicated to trace him a path with the correct frequency and create a signal to use with Mr. Fox's teleporter, but the lean man moved far too quickly and never lingered much in a single spot, making it impossible to help him. Their other option, the current Flash, was pummeled to the floor. Apparently his metabolism unstable to the point where he wasn't capable to stand on his own after their quick getaway, adrenaline be dammed and resting into the archer for support.

The speakers had been changed from the earpiece to the computer, allowing the whole group to pinpoint any sound of confirmation from Dick if one failed to notice, so after the struggle noises came to a halt the cave's inhabitants were frozen on the spot.

Bruce had long gone discarded the cowl hiding his face; bare cobalt-eyes searching frantically for any sign on the scale that indicated the barest of noise. This was his _son _on the line. It was impossible to hide the panic he felt for Dick after witnessing the circus-boy's clear defiance towards the kryptonians and his noticeable triumph by the reverberations of the encounter.

But Wonder Woman and Black Canary were tricky. And even when Dick could beat them, there was no telling who else had interfered.

"_This is Trailblazer to Spearhead_ _respond!_" He repeated aggravated by the lack of reply barely keeping-off a snarl when nothing came-up on the other end.

"_GRAYSON! _" Damian had yanked the microphone from his father, his face contorted in mixture of hopelessness wrath. "_Stop playing around and answer the goddamned call!_" he yelled at the top of his lungs, the silence remaining for all-two seconds prior to a broken murmur cutting-through the air.

**"**_**Please,…** _" he choked-out ignoring the pitiful glances around him and Pennyworth's steady-hand on his right shoulder.

"_Dick, **please,…**_**"**

Tim choked-out a strained sob next to Bruce, the older man placing his left hand over the teen's shoulders, listening to his soft whispers. Cass leaning on his free side with a hand on his small back.

Selina remained unmoving in the background, trying to compose her quick beating-heart as memories never forgotten came at her, when times were simpler and the bird followed the cat at the side of the bat.

Roy managed to secure Wally to a standing point; former Titans staring intensely at the black screen despite their ill countenance. Years had passed by, but in that moment they looked like the children they once-were, and it made the Bat's jaw tighten at the memory. The speedster had already tears forming on his tired green-eyes, never one to shy-away from his emotions.

"Come on Dick, please be okay," Tim prayed by Bruce's side, while Damian left a disobedient tear fall from his cobalt orbs.

"_You **promised**_,… _you **promised**_…" The little Wayne mouthed almost soundlessly, a silent chuckle resonating on the cave walls ripping the attention instantly towards it.

"**_Dick?_**" Bruce asked above Damian, hesitant at the end of his nerves, and another dry chuckle encircled the humid atmosphere letting the occupants breath in apparent relief.

"What the_ fuck is so **funny **about this GRAYSON!? Get in here INMEDIATELY or I'll be forced to terminate your **pathetic existence once and for all!**_" The current Robin was fast to seize the momentum, glaring at the screen that printed out the wave-sounds on the other side of the equipment.

A third chuckle, this one followed by a cough and liquid being spat followed.

Damian cringed at the sound.

"L-lan-guage lil' D_,_" Dick's voice wheezed-out humorous as ever.

Tim stepped between Damian and Bruce grabbing the microphone.

"_Dick! _Where are you? We're coming for you!"

"_Give me that back Drake!_"

"_Shut up!_ Dick, just check if you can turn-on the Emergency-Sub-dermal Tracer! The GPS must've turned-off accidentally! We'll be in no time for—_ouch! You fucking little-!_"

"**_That's enough!_**" Bruce growled loudly silencing both boys and reestablishing control of the communications. "The GPS and Tracer shouldn't be causing this much issues unless they've been removed or destroyed in the crossfire. Report your status Soldier," he ordered composed disregarding the stares aimed at him.

"Frac-fac, _fractured _a couple ribs an-and sternum," he panted and it was clear why his voice was gasping for air, probably had punctured a lung with the broken ribs, "pun-punctured l-left, l-left lung and ba-ck lacerations," Dick's voice took some more air, painfully masking a wince that was undoubtedly heard, "tr-tracer destroyed with esgrima st-tick stab on left shoulder," more air being greedily taken, "and h-head wound on fron-tal, frontal bone, heh," another intake of air with some gurgling noises, "how's K-kid Clutz and Arrow-breath (9)?" it was easy to picture his silly grin, making the speedster choke loudly, smiling at his old nickname. The archer barely carrying him fighting to keep his composure.

"Better than you Boy Wonderful (10), that's for sure! I thought you were the one who was supposed to be trained by Batman (11)!" Wally responded, voice cracking and slumping exhausted to the floor alongside Roy. He knew what this meant.

"You heard it Robbie! Now just try to tell us where you are so Cornfield here can go and rescue that pretty ass of yours," the other redhead grinned wiping his face, not bothering on getting-up with his limbs hardly listening. But Wally was a Meta; he only needed a good amount of food and rest—five minutes maybe—so really, they only required to know his location and Dick would be safe and good as-new in no time. No worries.

"You heard those idiots, Grayson!" Damian intervened yet again, feeling slightly jealous at the attention his big-brother gave the older males. "Out with it!"

"No."

"What-? Grayson what the _fuck_ do you mean '_N__o_'?"

"Dick, state your location immediately, it's an order." Bruce raised his voice over the others, only to hear Dick gasp in pain, cringing slightly at the memory triggered-back when Harvey had almost killed him as a little boy.

"T-they would find us. Fol-following Wally. I'm s-sorry,… b-but, the-they are ne-near. I'll find a safe pl-ace-"

"_Over there!" _came a familiar female voice in the background.

"_He's always making things more difficult than what he's worth." _Another one, this one of Oliver Queen responded to the first one.

Roy's blue-eyes widened. Ollie? _What the hell_—?

"_He took down the entire fortress including Diana, Dinah and the Superman Team; I think that's worth enough." _Cassie Sandmark, current Wonder Girl.

"_Come on Dickie, the bosses want to see you," _Cassie told the injured bird, her voice a cheerful-unpleasantness.

"_Tell t-them to get in th-the line." _Dick snarled not minding his tongue.

"_Is that—he has a micro on him!" _Green Arrow shouted and static followed.

"_DICK!_"

* * *

><p>"<em>Today is a memorable day for the world. A day that surely will pass on history, marking the beginning of a New era. One without fearing the consequences of dealing with masked vigilantes, turning into world-wide attacks forming from the neglect of selfish-dark crusaders. No longer will humanity be depending on mysterious individuals that put themselves above the eyes of the Law!" <em>The blonde in tatters announced to various cameras standing in front of a line just outside Superman's home. The news of the captured Batman got-out nine minutes after they lost contact. One of their radars intercepting the news. Apparently it was just what the media and big-important _influential_ people had been waiting for; massive amounts of refugees, so-called heroes and the formerly aforementioned stood proudly; the public supplying ovations on the newly appointed instructions that had the Batclan dreading the worst.

Problem in itself was that in order to get the aerialist back, a bridge was essential to build a signal point, and inconveniently, their contraptions were still on a preliminary phase. Neither Cass nor Selina could use their own artifacts-burned by overuse when giving it a shot, and Dick's had been damaged enough from Roy's strong-hold to hinder any usable frequency.

Lucius said he needed fifty-seven minutes to finish another one already half-done.

Not nearly enough time.

Their other alternative involving the speedster counted-out when after various attempts to regularize his metabolism got them nowhere. The redhead tried recover some strength to his limbs-ate with his friend's aid; it just wasn't nearly enough to run, let alone move on his own. Bruce had said something about being studied and prodded by their captors from the data collected by Dick.

Their attention was cut-short when the President of the United States took the improvised Podium, calming the crowd and motioning for someone on his far right. Superman and his two female kryptonians, all with obvious struggle and pain-induced sat rigid at their spots upon some cheap chairs, attempting to down the obvious ache and discomfort from their encounter with the former Robin: unable to move. And out came Cassie Sandsmark sided with a ruthlessly-injured Dinah Lance: uniform torn, blood pouring from her right arm and left thigh, broken lip, messy blond-matted-locks, and a heavy limp.

Escorting a familiar chained individual.

Bile roused to Damian's mouth at the battered-bloodied Richard John Grayson, aerialist, first sidekick Robin, former vigilante Nightwing, and Second Batman. His partner being dragged with merged-shackles around his four extremities all connected to his neck. His suit was in shreds, signs of extensive battles painting him in mixtures of reds substituting the once healthy peach skin. The cowl covered his face, but pieces were frayed, leaving at plain-sight traces of messy black locks in their wake.

The cave remained speechless.

Dick had been the first.

Those idiots had been stupid, and blind and _foolish _to understand the severity of their actions when they hauled Batman—still disobedient into making their job easy—to the oldest Kryptonian's sitting place; people of important political positions placing themselves on the sidelines, when Superman, gritting his teeth in effort managed to clumsily remove the cowl of the acrobat, exposing him to the World.

Shouts demanding his life surrounded the atmosphere. And with a smirk of defiance, Grayson muttered some indistinguishable words towards the traitor before being shot straight-ahead on his Yugular by the barely-moving Man of Steel.

The gun was a symbol. A mockery against Bruce Wayne who lost his parents the same way he now lost his son.

The Romani bleed-out after some moments, never breaking his cold blue-stare on his executioners; a celebration erupting after his body stopped working.

* * *

><p><em>~-Present Day. Year 2017.<em>

Damian shook his head, trying to focus on his task without delving for once on that day six-years ago.

It broke the Bats. Their dynamics weren't the same after Grayson's death-nothing ever was. They've grown distant, fought more between each-other, _blaming _one another for his murder. Some secluding themselves on self-pity while others like him opened their way on this new world that searched their extinction.

How foolish of them.

It seemed Grayson had provided them of one last gift before he met his demise, and Damian was bitter at his constant need to finish a job properly assisting his allies from the grave. Some samples he'd sent along with its respective encrypted data occupied a crucial discovery on Leviathan's plans. For what his father had concluded, the enemy infiltrated Zor-El's house, being responsible for the recent disappearances on the League's community—Red Arrow and The Flash proof enough—to process the Metas capabilities (Roy Harper seemed useless in this, unknown to this day his kidnapping purpose) into some formula to incapacitate them for upcoming battles. It was Kent's fault for being so trusting on who he let inside his house. Agents acting the part of refugees testing the capes. While at it, Leviathan had managed to influence Worldwide Leaders (no doubt having corrupted ones), thwarting their pitiful senses while manipulating facts of the previous 28th days of war into their behalf, conducting them into a full-size poisoning of their minds where the only enemies that could thwart its goals—the Batmen—where extinguished, assuring success with their downfall.

Fickle pedestrians were easily moved by chaos; the protection more brightly heroes promised enough to assure their cooperation. Those superhuman organisms being played by hurt feelings, diminished egos, and social pressure assuring their extermination if not heard.

Needless to say the enemy accomplished its desires. After Grayson's public execution, the Gothamite Crew was too disheveled, too unorganized to fend off Leviathan's rising attacks on the weak cities after the first-renewed assault, who reemerged from its hideout bringing mayhem at an alarming rate until the earth was nothing more than a shallow crust of weeks past.

Chemical warfare, atomic bombs, overseas destruction took their toll on the once blue and green planet, now in shades of charcoal crimson while the Reign of Leviathan flourished, fending off small groups of radicals who were disobedient to the Empire, never to be heard of again. Populations turned to barely fractions—numbers not seen from some time B.C..

The Hero Society no longer remained a strong group, serving the Empire or dying for treason.

Only a few managing to be resourceful on helping those in need.

The azure orbs behind his domino mask hardened. It mattered not to the Wayne descendant how long his brother had been taken away from _him, _the repercussions still palpable as ever, to which Damian would not rest until his revenge was met.

He would _never forget._

* * *

><p>(1)<em> Underground facility base beneath Russia just below the lake where Oracle, Gordon and Lucius Fox stand.<em>

(2)_ Cir-El._

(3)_ One of Roy's nicknames when they were the Teen Titans. They were perfect bantering out names to each other *sigh*._

(4)_ One of Wally's nicknames when they were the Teen Titans._

(5)_ Causes paralysis and hallucinations. Effects are up to 48 only, and affect upon first use each stone. See 'Pre-Crisis' Issues. _

(6)_ Kimiyo Hoshi._

(7)_ Codename of Bruce-Batman. See Detective Comics Annual 012 and Batman Annual 028._

(8)_ Codename of Dick-Batman. See Detective Comics Annual 012 and Batman Annual 028._

(9)_ More nicknames._

(10)_ Actual nickname too. Why is Wally lost in the limbo of the new 52 again?_

(11)_ See 'The Titans v1 015, and 016 (2000).' Everyone should check these issues. A lot of interaction of the former Fab Five in a secluded island, all angry and snapping-out at each other. They're all grown-up and reestablishing the team. Wally's (current Flash) constantly complaining about Dick being all mighty and trained by Batman making him impervious to rain, and cold and hunger and whatnot. It's hilarious. Really._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Notes:<em>**_ So the prologue is done for. Now things can get really interesting with missions, rampaging emotions, allies, remaining enemies, and the apocalyptic state the world was left. Major points of Gotham—like Arkham Asylum (and of course the inmates *smirk*) will play a big role too. Lists of survivors from the hero community, independently on which side they are will be pointed out whenever said character makes an apparition. The identity of Leviathan a mystery—or not. That depends on whether I get bored with the concept of keeping it hidden for some or many chapters._

_Constructive criticism, doubts or anything are always welcome._

_Until next chapter._

_**_EDITED 21/08/214 Author's Notes: Again, did some changes on the narrative, including dialogue changes, grammatical or spelling errors and the works. Nothing plot-wise was removed, changed, or added; it's just better to read at with the corrections. _**_


	3. Found You

**_Author's Notes: _**_From now the timeline is set on the present-time, six years after the prologue to this new world. The chapter below was a hard transition to continue with the main plot, therefore I do apologize and warn beforehand of it's quality. Though not considered the worst I've done, it certainly isn't without flaws on writing. If I manage to find an adoring beta who could lend me a hand-or wait until finals are over-I will probably do some editing in here. If that's the case, rest assured it will be mentioned and the events will not change per sé, just the descriptions of it, not making it necessary to re-read for continuity's sake if it's not desired. That said, I do hope you enjoy this, given this one's got some charm to it, if not as angst-filled like the last two ones (a nice break perhaps). Ages are posted at the bottom of the chapter.__  
><strong><br>Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><strong><em><br>Summary:_**_Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><strong><br>Eventual Pairings:**Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

**_Warning(s):_** _Foul language, some violence and mentions of death._

_Thursday November 17th 2011 Words: 4,008_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter III.- Found You._

_~-Present Day. Year 2017. Outskirts of Old-Louisiana _(1)_._

The sirens could be heard from his position, signaling the curfew for the low numbers radiating on the streets at this time of the day. Frantic alarms filling the otherwise empty lanes with their recurrent message: get inside and don't come out.

It was a safety measure some remaining places acquired for survival purposes. Thirty-four minutes from now the sun would bury underneath the earth, meaning the remainder of the rebels armies would be engaging everything that moved on their vicinity to ensure the safety of their citadels since that was the time when none of the old heroes ever went out.

Batman and the remnants of his crew on no account interfered. They had grown accustomed to the fact that every man was on his own after the catalysts of the wars, and applauded the citizens' guts to defend themselves by their own force. Of course that didn't meant they would be detained for curfews if they were on the range of one.

Just respected them enough to warrant their aid if push came to shove.

A wave of static.

"_RR, to NR, copy," _one recognizable though not necessarily welcomed voice sounded on his ear-comm, static-buzzing in the background clearing completely just as the line was secured.

"Night-Robin (2) over, state your business or leave the line; I have unfinished matters to tend," the sixteen year-old said with impatience. Drake rarely spoke to him, even less went out of his way to contact him when the Bats didn't have a previous engagement, both sticking to their own agendas. It was for the best—the circus boy wasn't there to subdue their quarrels.

"_I bet." _The young man responded in monotone disbelief, awaking the Wayne heir with the urge to stab someone. Preferably that impostor who still kept part of his former skin with that hideous outfit. He had told the pathetic male to hurry with his reasons for getting in touch with him, typical Drake's ineptitude wouldn't allow him to complete such a simple task.

"Speak already. Issues of _real _significance are worthy of my attention." The only reason he bothered with that pest was out of respect (what little was left) for his father; nothing more.

"_Certainly," _the impostor continued adding wood to the fire, Damian about to turn-off his end of the line, _"Boy Scout was spotted two hours ago fifteen kilometers at 5 o'clock from your current whereabouts," _this perked-up the teenager's interest, listening carefully, grateful for the first time that his location was known to his associates. If Kent was near within his radio (and almost at sunset to boot)… _"he's been making daily-visits around that district for the last eight days, spending an average of three hours tending his affairs before returning to his base on the Fortress." _Red Robin informed him straight on business.

The youngest felt his anger flare at the knowledge of Superman hovering around under his nose for that many time—granted the teen had only been here a mere couple of days for now—whilst the elder did nothing to report it. Obviously his father was also aware of this piece of information—Drake never did something without the Batman's awareness.

"Recon on the subject." The ex-assassin ordered. Superman rarely lingered that amount of time on the same place—especially if it involved unconquered lands.

"_Confidential." _The voice added.

He nodded to himself; that meant it was too dangerous to be addressed inside the security of their comms—and _that _was enough to warrant a Debrief on their Primary Base after his job got done.

"Infiltration then." Damian wasn't one to put his private vendettas against potential advantage on their adversaries. Time with his partner taught him patience and the benefits from planning ahead, studying the whole chart instead of a single piece. His father's methods coming to add the instructions Dick had instilled him on their partnership.

"_In curfew time, 32 minutes from now and counting." _Drake acknowledged unmoving, _"Boy Scout's still inside. You got ten before you need to get out. I'll send you the blueprints for positioning and will debrief on General at nineteen hours with the Boss. Don't screw-up. Red Robin out." _Line went dead, only leaving static behind, the Wayne heir glaring at an empty space on the sewer-walls before him.

He loathed Drake. The _one time _he got caught and that _idiot_ never seemed to get over it.

He never seemed to get over anything after Grayson. Unable to accept another voice except his father's, incapable to acknowledge the fact that _he _was as much to hold charge for accepting Cain's plan just like the woman herself. Incomprehensible to the reality that Grayson was _his partner. His brother, _and _friend _that chose him over the incompetent-delusional fan-boy. It made Damian's insides churn with disgust whenever he saw Drake in those rare occasions the two met, placing himself where Dick would, staring at pictures of _his brother_ when he thought he was in solitude.

"_Tt_." The teenager shook himself, standing from his kneeling position inside the large exit to the dark waters. He would tolerate that impostor for some more time. His attention was needed elsewhere. Checking his compartments he found the update the older man told him on his gauntlet's computer, memorizing the map and glaring dangerously at the prospect of an unexpected encounter with the kryptonian.

He was getting weary of waiting.

* * *

><p>Timothy Jackson Drake sighed heavily, hunched over the computer back on their Second Base beneath Old-Star City (3). Talking with the youngest of the crew always left him sour and angry. His patience with Damian was practically non-existent nowadays. None other was as close in comparison to the homunculus to their target, and the fifteen minutes after Clark left his post where too precious to waste; security wouldn't be as tight given their leader had just left the premises, instead sloppy and inefficient.<p>

Still, Tim would have wished he wasn't limited to search Damian's assistance. That demon wasn't capable judging against the rest of the team, rather disorganized instead and the fact that he ticked-him-off wasn't helping much either.

He was alone in the bunker they've adopted a little over half a decade now, when Roy and Wally's resilient behavior kept their group barely at bay from falling into the hands of Leviathan. Before the two Original Titans suffered the consequences of acting erratically in their search of closure, disappearing from their radars indefinitely. Dead or alive wasn't up to question at the present time. Almost six years after those events guaranteed they've both passed-on to the afterlife with the rest of their dead friends. Probably a well-deserved rest after everything those five had endured from their early years until their very end.

It made Tim nauseous with a strange mixture of relief and sadness.

His solitude in a place so intimate to them the only reason the bird left his emotionless mask drop and show how utterly worn-out he actually felt.

Rubbing his eyes he permitted himself another defeated sigh.

_God_, he missed him.

Everything changed when Dick was…

Tim squeezed his orbs shut once again, biting on his lower lip to prevent any emotional response for the moment being.

He felt so _tired, so exhausted. _

The situation was finally catching up with his rigorous effort of keeping his hopelessness aside. He rarely saw his companions, Stephanie on Russian territory alongside Barbara deploying random missions with her alone and not in the mood to face him. The only real company he got was the ever-faithful butler back at their Primary Base beneath Gotham. Bruce wasn't much of a company to him like those old times, Cassandra at his side most of the time, handling the dangerous missions all by themselves with Tim taking care of the other's whereabouts on the globe, maintaining their Intel in check now that Lucius had passed from the residual chemicals hanging in the air a couple of years ago.

He felt lonely.

'_No.' _He told himself, calming his behavior without achievement, _'Not _here._' _The young man tried once more, hanging his head in defeat and reaching at the same time for a picture hidden on the red vest of his uniform.

A small miserable smile forming on his thin-pale lips.

Blue eyes inspected the item on his hands, memorizing the image like many times prior. Passing his gaze from those black tresses that shined a healthy midnight blue, to that lean built that could only belong to him, holding a younger version of himself amicably with one strong arm while sporting that ever famous teasing smirk, the other otherwise engaged on rubbing playfully on his head; both men happy and a little flushed. Blue-electric-icy eyes staring at the camera taking the picture and his own gaze settled on his brother.

He only needed this to lift—if only a little—his spirits. His smile turning into a nostalgic dance with the rest of his features, adding a momentary peace to his unfulfilled soul—

"_DRAKE! YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL!" _

Tim's eyes popped open, never even having realized when he'd closed them; peace replaced with the heavy sirens the bunker's microphone supplied filled with insults from the homunculus.

"_Damian, what _is the_ matter _with you?" he hissed harshly into the intercom. He was in paradise but a few moments ago and the little pest shattered everything away. If he hadn't let his paranoia behind he would think the brat did it on purpose.

The teen had always been so creepy about the acrobat—about anything really.

"_THE MISSION IS COMPROMISED YOU IMBECILE! THAT'S WHAT!" _Shit, that was not good. But how did…?

"_I told you not to screw-it-up __**idiot**__! _You know how many_ time _we've _invested _on _this?" _ Trust the brat to ruin everything in a dozen minutes after getting inside, he growled deep in his chest. Hands already working their way to pinpoint the demon and his immediate threats to guide him out.

"_DO NOT LAY THIS ON ME DRAKE! YOU SENT ME TO A TRAP!" _The spawn's voice surrounded the walls and Tim gritted his teeth in annoyance with growing frustration. He couldn't even admit his fault on something crystal clear?

"_Shut up! _It's not my fault and the simple fact that you don't even have the courage to recognize your own mistakes makes it_ worse!" _He responded as his fingers kept trying to find his location. The place was a war zone alright. He didn't need the background curses and shooting to know it given his whole map was crammed-up of enemies.

"_Shit. _The place is crammed. You need to get out of there _ASAP." _He informed him, ignoring sadistic comebacks at the same time. "Okay, try to get to the location I've signaled on your gauntlet as fast as you can. I'll be there to get you out of there in thirty."He didn't wait for the demon to agree, there was simply no time.

Adjusting his gloves and planting his cowl, Tim took a sprint towards the more heavily armored vehicles. With the remnants of some teleporters installed on the machines he could get near the location in half the time mentioned, of course the other half was required to the gather energy to do so.

'_C'mon on.' _He thought urgently switching-on the devise instilled on the heavy ACC-E (4). There was no time to waste. And liking the spawn or not Tim still had an obligation with the brat.

For Dick.

* * *

><p><em>Dammit. <em>Dammit it all to _hell. _

Damian didn't have time for this. _'Stupid incompetent Drake.' _He thought dodging another charge of bullets from his left, rolling to the floor and taking a momentary cover to take out his sharp birdarangs under the filthy floors on the facility's basement corridors. Quickly jumping out from his impromptu fort he threw them accurately at his enemies, six metal pieces stabbing the soldiers on pressure points to stop their movement, sending them to the floor in rivers of their own blood.

This was disgusting. The whole plan had spiraled downwards the minute he entered the grounds. A foul odor was the first tale-tell sign indicating something was amiss, he'd gone against his instincts and let it be, preferring to acquire the data he'd been prearranged to instead of investigating further.

More guards—the place was overflowing with them. The city wasn't on Leviathan's hands, so there really wasn't any reason for the security to be high enough to spot an insect if it crawled inside. He ran into the walls, using his speed and body strength to lift into the air and land roughly behind the group on his tail, not wasting a precious instant to take his knifes and pierce the enemies to the wall he'd use for leverage. One smoke bomb was his next move, covering the blood-spattered mess and himself to distract the ones that followed—all the shouting had obviously helped to pinpoint him.

He ran, his grown body taking bigger leaps as he scanned quickly for the route the incompetent fan-boy sent him, the stench growing more revolting with each step his legs took, and the guards facing him north more heavily armored than the others faced.

"Halt!" A huge-bulky imbecile 20 meters north from him ordered, raising his hand to indicate his men to fire on command.

Math was simple, Damian had always thought, it was just numbers. Right now approximately 38 heavily-packed soldiers holding their guns at him faced him upfront, the smoke from his recent bomb commencing to disperse, procuring another 40 seconds or so to shield his figure from their eyes in this humid and rancid tunnel. Cursing and barking could still be heard for some 60 meters south, his lenses already informing him on the closed spaces within the walls—no sewer entrances, vents, nothing to escape that didn't involve a direct counterattack.

30 seconds.

"Raise your hands and step forward from the smoke or we will shoot. You're trespassing Empire property and will be held accountable for your crime." He ignored that same stupid voice, counting his lingering weapons.

'_Tt.' _Twenty-six. Not enough if he couldn't use them properly.

20 seconds.

"You got five seconds to step away. Counting."

19 seconds.

Damian smirked: it's just numbers.

17 seconds. Green gauntlet pressing the trigger on his grappling-hook, aiming it towards the ceiling in time for his assault. Guns could be heard from their positions, fingers tensing on the triggers about to aim.

"One. Fi—_arghhhh_!" the entire ground shook, a following explosion beneath the crew opening the floor, swallowing the gunmen in flames.

"_Fuck!"_ The teenager cursed promptly trying to regain his footing without much success, scarcely latching his line to the tunnels ceiling, and grunting in pain when a missing bullet caught his left arm. The soldiers behind him increasing their fire in panic as they tried to elude the crumbling floor that received them mouth ablaze.

Gunpowder falling into the abyss fueled the hellhole's mouth. Death instantaneous.

Those smells—those _smells. _The air was polluted by them, having the Wayne gritting his teeth, swallowing the reflux that rouse increasingly rapid on his throat at the stench of carbonized flesh, hair, and residuals that came on the hidden floor beneath his form. Putrefaction that could only belong to years of harvest trespassing through the flames zealously, making him dizzy with nausea.

He could hear mechanic movements a heavy machine did below, parting the way through the decreasing inferno and carcasses without a care.

Squinting his lenses to examine this new intruder, Damian found only one body heat reading coming from inside the old tank (5). It said nothing to him. He doubted the rebels had managed to acquire this rough piece of machinery.

His jaw clenched—the line threatening to fall under his weight with the unstable tunnels.

'_Probably the one who activated the alarms. I knew it wasn't an error on my behalf.' _Damian growled deep in his chest, wound forgotten and new purpose in sight.

The decision was easy now that said interloper had disposed of his immediate threats—it reduced the enemy lines to one.

The adjusted-drill stopped working, fallen debris extinguishing the rest of the combustion giving Night-Robin the pause he'd needed to assert his clandestine stance—it wouldn't be odd for that imbecile on the tank remaining blind to his presence, he'd certainly informed all the guards of his existence whereas Damian had lingered inconspicuous during his mission, even now as he continued attached to the fragile ceiling not one sound made, two birdarangs already between his fingers.

The sirens had been demolished in the turmoil, blaring reds blinking in random mutes, announcing their short life. A rusty sound of the top sealing the entrance of the vehicle announced movement below, having him ready to exterminate the pest once it got out; physique uptight in anticipation when the swoosh from the exit revealed brown-leather clad gloves on the rim-Damian's eyes widened in astounded disbelief.

"_Hey babybird~!_" The mocking sound of Todd's voice greeted him as he came out from the machine—red helmet still in place and new uniform (6) impeccable.

They hadn't heard from Hood after the collision they'd had a few hours after Dick was murdered. The second Robin had mysteriously appeared on their base when all were just trying to grasp the situation, pointing fingers and entering in a brawl with his father, Drake, and himself over the corpse that soiled the Fortress.

It figured Grayson had shared their location with Todd before his demise—he'd been the only one contacting the maniac.

"_Todd. What _are you _**doing **__here?_" Night-Robin hissed, letting go of the line to land on the black and red vehicle. "You compromised my mission you imbecile!" Birdarangs still poised to form an attack on the Red deserter.

"Pfft, _please_," Jason was quick to casually dismiss him, "they knew you were watching from Delta Point before you even came in." Then his posture became rigid in clear aggression. "Just be grateful I was generous enough to save your pathetic little ass." He told the Robin before turning his back on him and walking straight into the hidden second-basement Damian hadn't known about.

His teeth clenched in annoyance, checking his time before the other stupid charity-case his father sponsored came for him.

Sixteen minutes.

"Tt."

Night-Robin ran after Red Hood, determined to confront the mistake of his sire thus discovering his purpose in this location.

It was impossible Todd came here just to "save" him.

Why now?

'_He knew of my location prior to entering. He was here beforehand; it's imperative to find out why.' _The detective growing on him concluded, halting to a pause after the ex-sidekick mumbled something low under his breath and stopped his pace, a hologram computer (7) with encrypted data coming from his hidden watch.

Damian's breath caught short.

_Dick's _watch.

His action immediate. One hand grasping violently around the older man's wrist; a snarl on his face that probably mirrored the one behind that ridiculous crimson helmet of his.

"_What _is your problem _brat_?" Jason sneered pulling his forearm from the youngster's grasp without much success.

"_You _are Hood." Damian bit-out, ignoring the pulsing pain of the bullet still inside his arm, gripping more tightly with his other limb. "_That _is _Dick's _watch you Neanderthal savage!"

Bulls-eye.

A sudden change in Red Hood's control. Real force behind his extremity, yanking it harshly from Night-Robin's clutches enough to send the other masked vigilante to the floor beneath him. Well-tarnish boot pressing into the back of the aforementioned before he could stand, adding pressure to the bird's tired lungs (8). Served him right for coming unprepared. Bruce should've taught the brat to bring a gas mask to avoid intoxication.

"_Listen to me you little_ _dipshit_," Jason hissed vehemently, both hands charging his classic revolvers on the base of Damian's spine. "_I don't have time to play __**babysitter**__ until the __**Replacement**__ arrives for your sorry ass, so do yourself a favor and stay out of my way._" He pushed a little harder earning a grunt from Damian before ruthlessly kicking him aside, revising the data he had been decrypting and walking ahead as he read. Killing him would serve no purpose, but he would cut this robin's wings just to make his point.

"_You_ don't order me around Todd," Damian coughed, refusing to spill his insides even after the heavy nausea he felt, standing up to resume his task with Red Hood. "And _that _doesn't belong to you." His irritation growing when the lunatic continued to ignore him, "So you better explain yourself before I decide to—ugh!" Night-Robin fell to the floor for a second time not noticing an immediate stop after a turn that had him collide with the eldest of the birds' back.

The second Robin removed his helmet, a small transparent mask replacing his need for clean air the hood served. Domino mask stretched into an undetermined emotion, brows knitted and figure trembling; two words whispered at the wind.

"Are you _deficient_? Watch where you're go—" The teen's mouth went dry, words caught up on his reverie delusion when he finally looked pass the older male and what he bestowed upon him.

Never before had Damian Wayne felt what he did at that moment, heaving-up in a compulsive manner the contents of his stomach, sickness finally catching up with him cough after cough, drenching himself in vomit and blood while azure eyes burned enough to extract unwanted tears underneath his green mask.

He didn't have much time to reason what happened next, vertigo already taking part of his consciousness with that absolute disgust over his surroundings to put much thought on the fading voices in the background shouting indeterminate confessions with rains of bullets acting the tempo of the orchestra. Suddenly all became black, consciousness abandoning him like his mother—his grip on reality in the form of one bulky arm wrapping itself around his midsection moving him at a rushed pace away from all the carnage screams.

But the leftovers of his psyche were against him, azure eyes falling prey to the blacks that endangered to consume him. Todd's baritone echoing those two grave words perpetually inside his mind even after all went dark.

"_Found you_."

* * *

><p>(1)<em> After Leviathan took control of the globe, the remaining cities had their name changed, though the ones that are still standing or not in complete control of the enemies—battalions, rebels, citadels made excluding themselves from everything, etc—are usually called 'Old-<em>_insert city name'__._

(2)_ NR.=Night-Robin.- Alias Damian took when Dick Grayson died. Mixture of the acrobat's original personas. _

(3)_ Green Arrow and Red Arrow's antique home base. Green Arrow abandoned his city after allying himself with the Empire, leaving it with numbered refugees and rebels that are barely standing against them. Red Arrow disappeared some months after Batman's (Dick) death; he left his hidden base to the Bats before that. Last known location in search of Oliver Queen and his daughter Lian Harper._

(4)_ Amphibious Combat Craft Expeditionary ACC/E. I don't own this model—or concept. If you want a visual the name will do, just imagine it black. It does everything the concept from Gibbs Military Amphibians are designing it in this story with the added facility of having the teleporter Lucius invented. Runs on solar energy—in this story—and carbon. _

(5)_ i. usatoday communitymanager / _photos / drive-on / 2010 / 01 / 11 / armyx-large . jpg  
>Just add an improvised drill to the front part and paint it in blacks and reds.<em>

(6) _I'm using the new 52 uniform of Jason in here—all but the Helmet. For his helmet it's the Under The Red Hood version, or simply put, his original one._

(7) _Like the one from the New 52 Batman 01, or from the Animated Series Young Justice Dick has on his gauntlet._

(8) _From the smells. He's already nauseous with blood-loss, add those smells, the vertigo and whatnot and you got a messed-up Damian._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Age Chart:<em>**

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16 years-old._

_**By mention only:**_

_Bruce Wayne - 49 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> So, it wasn't by far my best editing, actually had a lot that I still want to change (like I've already stated), but after revising this for the fifth time I decided it was going to become a perpetual feature of this particular chapter. The important events that needed to be addressed in here served their purpose, if not perfectly like I wanted, but, like I said, it's somewhat of a feature it incorporated without wanting to. Still in the market for a beta if anyone is kind to offer. Hopefully there weren't that many mistakes—and if they are, it's still understandable to read._

_So far this is the shortest chapter-worry not, it will be an oddity among them._

_Jason and Tim make their introduction. Damian still on the view. Almost half of the main characters are assembling, i__t makes me grin in anticipation._


	4. Discussing the Matters

_**Author's Notes: **__One too many characters appear in this chapter as things start going into motion. Mostly dialogues and presuming plan's of action are depicted in here. Ages are posted at the bottom of the chapter. Oh, and by the way *shameless advertising follows* you should all go and read  
><em>**Blood of the Dawn**'s _stories "_**Where's the Justice?**" _and it's on-going Prequel _"**It's Just Us**". _They're awesome and can be found in the Cartoon section of Young Justice. They focus on Dick's part as Robin (a badass Robin) when he first started and met the league, completely unimpressed by them, growing into a pretty good timeline as he grows. The prequel will be focusing on what happened to Dick after his parents died, and has currently one-amazing-chapter. There ya go Sam, told ya I would get to you *smirks proudly*.__**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language._

_Saturday November 26__th__, 2011 Words: 4,421_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter IV.- Discussing the Matters._

_~- Year 2017. 20:47hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum._

"Any trace of him yet?" A gruff voice echoed within the walls of the humid tunnels, the resident bats squeaking and fluttering around the place at the familiar sound of their master.

"…no." Tim responded trying to swallow his frustration at the obvious lines of worry decorating the Dark Knight's face; fingers pausing from indecision against the holographic keyboard.

The eldest Bat grunted, cape swishing on his turn as he walked towards another hidden case. "Keep looking."

The young man nodded, biting his lower lip as he racked his brain for more methods in which he could find their missing comrade. It was infuriating. He had arrived in the established time, his cursor signaling Damian had reached the marked destination and no guards near the area only to find his GPS lying discarded along a piece of his uniform.

He should've tried to contact him just to ensure the teen was still all right. No traces were found pinpointing his location, and the third Robin had researched the decaying facility in hopes of finding the demon, but had withdrew shortly when he noticed the foundations were crumbling not two minutes after his arrival: someone had planted bombs in the place.

He sighed, running his hands through his growing hair (1) at the guilt of his flawed-responsibility. Bruce hadn't out-right yelled at him for losing his son, but that only made it worse.

Some of the bats fluttered around some more, screeching again.

Black Bat had arrived.

"Any trace of him?" Bruce repeated for the up tenth time in the short span of two hours and five minutes since they'd declared Night-Robin M.I.A.

"No." Cassandra told her father, disengaging from her oxygen-mask. "However, I tracked his steps more carefully when The Amazon Queen left." She talked without sentiment attached, passing Tim and giving him a rare upward of the corner of her upper lip (she was even more reserved now, after all, the girl still held the blame and would probably do the rest of her days).

Bruce turned to them, abandoning his research to hand Black Bat the attention she gained. "Report." He ordered her watching the ex-assassin discard the mask covering her almond eyes and Tim was forced to turn from her face—Cassandra looked even older than what she was, was that how his reflection appeared too? Were his orbs as worn-out like hers?

"He deviated from his established route." Tim could feel her aged-gaze on the back of his neck, nodding uncertainly at the guilt the woman was liberating him from. "It appears there was a hidden floor underneath the secret basement he was sent to investigate."

Bruce sat heavily in his chair, calloused hand stroking his unshaved chin (2), calculating this new development. "He went down then." Cassandra nodded, taking a sit on a metallic-counter next to Tim, the holographic screens left in the background radiating in blues. "How?" The elder bat questioned, making Tim stiffen slightly, how Damian came into the awareness of another floor was indeed the question to follow. None of their Intel had known beforehand.

He scanned his sister waiting for her answer. Bruce had immediately called him to head to their base after the explosions demolished most of the perimeter, hence his lack information on the grounds and steps the teen had made. Cassandra went in search for answers once the area was moderately safe for them (she'd pinpointed Diana Prince within the grounds, making her stall her research).

"The remaining walls demonstrated cracks that indicate the presence of a drill heavy enough for one of our tanks." She continued, signaling with a wave of her hand to some models they had underneath with them for reference, "I searched its route finding it started from a southwest position near the city, 87 degrees below from the secret passages opening one gate until it decided to undo the floor above it." Cassandra crossed her arms underneath her chest, stare unmoved. "Right under Night-Robin's last position on the known floor."

Tim blinked at the realization. Bruce hardening his impressive glare.

"They went for him." The young raven-haired man muttered, his privileged brain working in sync with his dexterous fingers that had regained their placement on the keyboard; images of enemies appearing around the three occupants of the cave with their locations established on their profiles.

The Wayne nodded, intertwining both of his hands underneath his chin in deep thought.

"What else?" He asked the woman while scanning Tim's results with azure eyes.

She shook her head faintly, "The floor is completely destroyed; the explosives that detonated the place burying completely what remained down there. I managed to salvage some remnants," then she searched in one of her yellow pouches, taking out a small carbonized box made from plastic and leftovers of photographic film-stock, handing it to her father who took it nodding, "the computer read a large amount of film-stock stashed within the box with high-amounts of acetaldehyde."

"Enough to blow-up everything in seconds." Bruce muttered, trusting in the air purifiers inside the cave against the potential harms on the residing carcinogen that relayed on the homemade device.

"It's also the work of an expert: homemade. The materials easily acquired—impossible to trace." She turned towards Tim, the slightest furrow on her exquisite features preoccupying the feathered raven.

"Detonator?" Their father asked while inspecting the item in search of the ignition key in this powerful but simple explosive.

"None found." A frown on her General's face.

"Are there signs of resistance from Night-Robin?" Bruce asked clearing his throat and adjusting his cowl once more. Detaching from the imminent news.

"No. Asides from the rag Red Robin found with his tracer and some batarangs on left over corpses 27 meters from his last known location there's nothing that indicates his struggle against his captors, nor his body found signifying death."

"I've monitored the microphones around the major cities, and there's no word acknowledging Night-Robin's presence on their bases." Tim continued for Cass, leveling his calculating stare towards their General in Command. "They didn't took him, weren't even aware he's the one that left those gadgets."

Black Bat nodded. "I followed some high-ranks to gather some data on their assumptions of the attack." She paused, uncrossing her arms to stand straight once more, facing both men. "They think we are responsible." Then she established her brown eyes on her father's beneath the cowl. "It's a general consensus declaring it was Batman."

"So it's obvious to say they know nothing about Master Damian's missing state," a British voice filled-in, gaining the attention of three different sets of eyes. The elderly butler regal in his pose (3), tray in one hand, cane in the other and wardrobe impeccable. It was a testament to his diligence when the bats surrounding the walls made no noise of protest towards his attendance, already used to his calm posture and unwavering presence.

"The rebels don't know anything either. I've been monitoring their conversations for the past two hours," Tim nodded at Alfred in gratitude when the english-man handed him a cup of warm tea, sipping it and relaxing if only a little when the delightful taste filled his empty-stomach, "they also are on the assumption Batman helped on destroying an Empire's base on their Old-City. The media in the other hand, labeling a terrorist attack from Batman to the troops."

Cassandra gave the tiniest of smiles when Alfred handed her favorite cup with a weary but affectionate smile of his own.

"I think it's safe to say Sir that Young Master Damian will not be found in their claws and for now, we must rely on his capabilities for returning to us safely and sound. You all need to rest for the upcoming battles to renew your search seeing you haven't done so in days." The faithful butler stood in the way of Batman, tea on the platter and scowl from his charge overlooked. "I've already taken the liberty to prepare your rooms for the night."

Tim sighed, Cassandra sipping her tea peacefully on her place.

Bruce tensing ever so slightly.

"Thank you Alfred, but I need to scout the place for more clues on Nigh-Robin's location. I'll be back shortly." Batman walked pass the elder's form, stealing a momentary glance at his charges and his fatherly figure a step away from leaving the cave.

"Has any movement from above been made?"

"Negative. The Asylum is still locked." Tim told him matter-of fact.

Batman nodded. "Keep the motion sensors going. We need to keep the walls sealed no matter what." Both youngsters nodded once in confirmation. "You're both off-duty. Get some sleep. Alfred will contact Oracle to keep an eye on Night-Robin's whereabouts and send her the data gathered so far." A pause. "We only got 72 hours, I need you two rested." He didn't wait for corroboration on their behalf, disappearing into the crevices of their cave, the sound of his oxygen-mask pressed the last they heard before he exited the grounds.

"You heard Master Bruce young Miss, and Sir," Alfred told them swallowing a lump on his throat with years of expertise, turning his attention to his lingering family, "off to bed it is. I'll leave Miss Gordon acquainted with the situation and inform Miss Stephanie of the current events, I'm sure she'll procure her aid into finding Master Damian."

Cassandra and Tim had no option but to agree; it was hard to notice Alfred's diminishing countenance, but they've been on his care for too many years to distinguish the bordering depression surrounding their grandfatherly figure. It made them incapable of arguing with the english-agent.

They'd do anything to make Alfred's weariness go away.

* * *

><p><em>~- 21:03hrs. Fortress of Solitude. Kal-El's Home and Second Base to the Empire.<em>

"**What **do you mean** 'there's no sign of him'!**" A shout was heard from inside the doors of the main conference room inside the fortress, making the standing sentinels—Guardian and Dr. Light—flinch at the irate sound of Superman's tone.

"I mean '_there's no sign of him'_." Diana growled in return without fear penetrating her voice. She'd long gone forgot about having trepidation with the formerly-known "Man of Steel", crossing her muscled arms beneath her generous bosom without breaking her glare. "If Bruce was there he left long before we knew someone had broken the Building's borders." The Amazon explained paying no heed to the alien's furious state. "We found some of his gadgets, but it could've easily been any of them; you know he shares his toys with his crew." She proceeded raising her polished boots to rest on the enormous golden table. "There wasn't anything relevant in there anyways," the woman continued while Clark fumed on the other end at the head of the table, "I left 4th Grade Soldiers there to gather some info," when she saw her college about to protest she raised an elegant eyebrow, the years not doing much to her beauty despite the punishment the Gods bestowed upon her, "Leviathan's orders." Like she expected Clark nodded rightly afterwards. "For now I think it's safe to say Bruce's looking for something." The Exiled-Queen pointed at the only other occupant in the room. "What were you doing in there anyways?"

"Just a usual check-up. I thought there weren't survivors?" Clark stiffened for a heartbeat, making the woman clad in her kin's armor narrow her eyes at him.

"There weren't, but we captured some rebels nearby and they said they never went anywhere near you." She glared harder, taking her gorgeous boots down from the table and leaning into it. "Are you hiding something from me Clark?"

The Kryptonian equaled the glare towards the woman, not the least bit intimidated.

"What our Superior commands me is none of your concern if you aren't informed. Don't forget your place in here Diana."

"_Don't_ you try to treat me like the soil beneath your feet Clark," the warrior responded, unwilling to let the insult go by, "I'm not like those ants who you step on," her back straightened, rising with an air of royalty from her seat to look down on the man, "and I'm not beyond crushing you if you continue to do so," then she leveled her eyes to his, never breaking the repressed-emotions filling her orbs, "unlike the others in here, I have **nothing **to lose." Diana finished, turning to make her leave, a white cape trailing against her legs as she exited the room to head towards her own base where New York used to stand.

Superman sighed frustrated at the sound of both doors slamming closed, one big hand massaging his aging features while he grumbled about the increasing rants of defiance from the Amazon. He knew if things became too hostile the exiled-warrior would be more than willing to go down in her attempt to destroy him, something that would've been fruitless if he still was all-powerful in this day and age.

'_If this continues we might need to get rid of her.' _He thought with a sour taste invading his mouth. _'No, there has to be another way.' _ They could always use their back-up plan, though he'd have to talk it over with his superiors, but…

Clark sighed, he barely had any colleges—let alone actual friends—left, and Diana, even after all they've been hating each other as the years went by, still managed to keep a part of his heart. He didn't want to lose her.

'_I'll do whatever it takes to keep her grounded, it'll probably earn me some points for maintaining her on our side.' _The alien nodded to himself, ready to deal with the attack a few hours ago now that he settled Diana's position.

'_Dammit Bruce, why couldn't you just listen—you caused this. All of this.' _Ill-tempered he went for the phone installed on the room, pressing some codes and waiting impatiently for the other end.

"_Yes my Lord?"_ Dinah Lance answered steadily making Superman nod at the obedient bird on his lines.

"Bruce reached Point Alpha in Old-Louisiana." He barked unable to control his rising temper, knuckles white and frown beyond hope.

"… _has word gotten out?_"

"**No**, and I need you to keep it that way." Clark glowered at the blonde, "Search for it—"

"_Wait, you mean you don't even know if—" _the fighter interrupted, causing the anger in the Kryptonian flare at her accusation.

"**Watch who you're talking to Canary**, **this** is **your** job now."

"… _I just got into the mainframe, says there were some explosions that buried the floor._"

Superman rolled his eyes. His patience wearing thin with the unusually-irritating woman. "I know that already. Diana was sent to battle but Bruce had already left the place. That's why _**you **_are needed for this."

A considering pause.

"_How am I supposed to find anything underneath the debris? Shouldn't the bosses know something? They could just gather around Points Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon to solve everything." _The smartass blonde told him going straight to business, making Superman wish he still had his heat-vision to carbonize the woman for trying to outsmart him.

"_It's not your call._ Find out what happened to Point Alpha, I don't care how you do it, just do it. Or else it's **your head**." Clark gritted, hanging-up the phone after the ultimatum towards the Gothamite.

The Superiors were informed on everything, but disclosing the other Greek Points was a dangerous choice they wouldn't take with the Primary now demolished. Not like he knew all of them either. It was hard to be kept on the light of their plans with so many technological advantages the bats had at their disposal without having the risk of leaking potentially dangerous information.

Whatever the cause, the bleached blonde needed to find-out what happened before this hole dug them deeper than they found themselves in.

* * *

><p><em>~-01:02hrs. Warehouse H. Gotham City.<em>

"I heard what happened." Selina dropped with uncanny grace behind the Dark Knight, her combat boots noiseless against the rough stones of the gargoyles in the top of a large building in Gotham City.

The woman covered in leather wasn't surprised when her occasional lover failed in procuring an answer to her comment, choosing instead to walk closer so she would stand by his side.

Bruce resembled one of the stones that they stood upon, the cat reflected unable to keep herself from studying the man; her green crystals sparkling at the fire that would always burn fervently for him and him alone.

She let a broken smile get caught in the reverie of her thoughts, missing the warmth that used to come off in waves from the bat. Her cynic nature sharpened like her gloves.

"I wouldn't worry for him." She drawled, taking a step further from Batman, aiming down at the city's ashes.

Sensing movement, she drew her gaze in the direction of the Bat, smirking sardonically when his countenance betrayed none of his thoughts about his son, or her presence. One-too-many nights since they'd shared a bed, since he provided her a warm caress to combat her freezing heart.

"He had the best teacher after all." Whip in hand the woman threw herself into the night-sky, a petite and curvaceous siluette decorating the otherwise gloom city.

Above the skyscraper Batman followed her figure until she merged with the darkness, knuckles gripping furiously beneath his cape at the whispers she hadn't intended for him to hear.

"_And he's your son."_

* * *

><p><em>~-02:58hrs. Third Base beneath the Lake of Baikal, Russia.<em>

"Babs _c'mon_! You _need_ to let me go! You said it yourself, Damian's missing!" Stephanie Brown shouted for the seventh time in the brief span of five minutes, Oracle massaging her aching temples at the blonde's tirade. "We can't risk losing him! We're already falling apart, we can't lose another one of us!"

"Stephanie, I already told you Bruce and the others are handling things. They just wanted to keep us posted." The redhead informed her patiently, adjusting the rim of her glasses. "I also adjusted our radio pointers to their maximum capacity in case his tracer is momentarily deactivated. You need to calm down and keep it up together, you have that big assignment with Beryl and Kate in less than fifteen hours time—you need to rest." At the distressed expression from the blonde Oracle sighed, procuring a reassuring hand above the other woman's. "He's going to be okay. It's the son of Wayne who we're talking about."

And Stephanie could only nod, tightening the grip on her predecessor's hand before adjusting her cowl and exiting the safety of their home.

Barbara wouldn't approve, but her issues with the rest of the Gothamites wouldn't keep her at bay any longer.

She was supposed to take care of the little-devil for Dick, and she'd been lacking in her promise.

* * *

><p><em>~- 04:27hrs. Abandoned house. Old-Monterrey City, M<em>_éxico._

His head hurt, Damian contemplated in a split second trying to wake-up from his haze of bordering unconsciousness slowly trying to open his eyes. Darkness fading into the warmer colors of a candle-lit room in the early-hours of the morning.

"Don't you go baptizing my new floor babybird. I'm telling ya man, kids these days," a male told him condescendingly forcing the latest Robin to keep both eyes from blinking drowsily, "don't the Bat taught you some manners?" Red Hood spoke amused appearing directly in front of him.

Blue met blue, a questionable interchange happening between both brothers before Hood stood from his crouching position on the floor, shaking his head in amusement, turning to walk towards what appeared to be an old kitchen.

"_Todd_," Damian gasped out, coughing at the lungful of clean air inhaled, "what is the meaning of this?" he asked, rotating his defiant stare to the back his elder.

Taking a steady breath, the teen recovered himself to his feet, scowl ever present when he found none of his weapons nor utility belt in his persona; mask, gauntlets, and cape discarded somewhere else as well.

"That's twice I've saved you sweetums, try to remember that if you want a third to happen." Damian heard the tall raven-haired chat entertained with the concept from the kitchen, his scowl deepening and choosing to instead inspect his surroundings; he had to start somewhere with his computer gone—recognizing this remote place was the obvious start.

"Tt. It was unnecessary. I could've handled it myself Todd."

"Sure you could babybird, right before following on my footsteps." Jason snickered, moving boxes from the countertop in search for some substance.

Damian glared, crossing his arms on his muscular chest—he was growing quickly, already taller than Drake for 2cm. No doubt he'd also surpass Todd eventually like his father. His cobalt orbs fell on the pristine ceramic floor, forcing a disbelieving expression cross his features.

The place, while it certainly lacked all the commodities they had in each of their bases, was nicely put, something he'd seriously doubted from the second charity case of his sire. White walls matched the entire floor, old-curtains of a deep brown with gold intricate patterns served to cover two massive windows in the living room area, two ugly-deflated couches with some Spanish-like pearl-cover surrounding one small coffee table that had no grace to it, just plain wood; there was no carpet decorating any piece of furniture whatsoever, the kitchen only separated from the living space by a small barstool with countertops nailed above it. He could see Todd mixing something on some aged-casserole by the stove, random items out that had already been put to use. His nose twitched at the incredible amount of dishes piling in the sink, a gun holster nearby.

"I hope you like macaroni n' cheese," Jason spoke to him neutrally, making the youngest Wayne somewhat uncomfortable at the oddity of this whole scenario, "'cause that's about all I can find here."

Damian let himself into the kitchen, leaning against the barstool ready to attack if the need came. "Explain yourself Todd."

A smirk. "Whatever do you mean babybird? I just happened to by nearby and thought of doing you a solid by preventing history from repeating itself." Jason shrugged his shoulders, dropping some mac n' cheese into a questionable-looking plate.

"I know it's more than that Todd." Damian growled feeling insulted, pointing an accusatory finger toward the other bird. "You are hiding something, and you are going to inform me what it is."

"Look kid," he said moving the white lock from under his eyes, munching his food where he stood against the sink, "We started with the wrong foot, and it might've been my fault for shooting you on your spine and beating the ever-loving crap outta you," a twitch on Damian's brow, "but the past is the past, I don't know you and you don't know me." His blue stare became consuming, all play gone, making Damian try to remember something he had the feeling he was forgetting. "And if Dickie hadn't thought we had more in common than any of the others I woulda just let you die there with those rats."

"…Dick told you that?" the teenager swallowed the lump in his throat at the revelation; Jason was a lunatic, but Damian had been taught at an early age by the greatest of minds how to depict liars—Hood wasn't lying.

"What do you want then? And I demand my property back, tt, it's a wonder you've managed to stay hidden this long with these poor accommodations Todd."

Jason rolled his eyes, his plate clean of contents making its way to the increasing pile at his right. "Says the one without the slightest idea where we are." A smirk adorns his handsome roguish features, "All I want is to make sure your adorable-demon head is okay," he signaled above a microwave where his properties laid discarded, "your shit's there. Must say, I like the new toys," Damian crossed the small space between him and his belongings, checking immediately for a signal to read his status or get a clue on his parameters, "almost enough to throw mine off a loop."

"Tt." His devices were dead, not physically damaged, but interrupted from properly functioning more likely by Todd's aforementioned 'toys'. "What time is it?"

The older man glanced at the faded-watch attached to his wrist, not seemingly minding the tension that simple move had on the teenager, "04:36am, took you a while to get your ass up and about."

"Tt." Inexcusable. He'd been lost on the radar to his allies for far too long—he needed to contact his father immediately.

"Listen, I need your assistance."

Damian's cobalt orbs widened; he certainly wasn't expecting that. "For what might that be Hood? More importantly why would I be willing to lend you my aid in the first place?" He responded arrogantly finishing on tying-up his boots and adjusting his cape.

"Because this has to do with burying Leviathan to the ground." The rogue vigilante lit a cigarette, breathing in the precious nicotine and noting with evident satisfaction the proud teen's interest.

"I'm in." Night-Robin declared, wardrobe in place and with more determination than he ever had.

"You might want to think it through kid," there was no play on the elder's baritone, "this is strictly confidential—the bats can't know about it, and once you're in there's no out. We aren't playing games 'round here." Another take on his cigarette.

"So you admit having some type of partnership with someone."

Another shrug from the smoking raven.

"Tt. It changes nothing. As long as those bastards pay for their crimes I care not about my allegiances." Damian continued, trying to suppress the constant pounding on his head growing more and more.

"Good to hear babybird. Maybe you're not a complete waste."

Damian fumed, grimacing when another throb erupted wildly on his cranium.

"First things first," Jason left all jokes aside again, lighting a new smoke, "what do you remember before you disappeared into the land of Morpheus?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age Chart:<strong>_

_Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth – 71 years-old._

_Bruce Wayne – 49 years-old._

_Selina Kyle – 47 years-old._

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16 years-old._

_Barbara Gordon – 38 years-old._

_Clark Kent – 50 years-old._

_Diana Prince – 49 years-old._

_Dinah Laurel Lance – 45 years-old._

* * *

><p>(1)<em> His length resembling the one shown in Red Robin<em>

(2)_ The one-day not shaved beard. Not sure how's it called, but he's seen sporting that whenever he's very occupied._

(3)_ His appearance is the one of the upcoming novel of Batman: Earth One. You can find him by almost at the bottom. It's the one with the cane and tattoo, though the only difference in here is that he's still bald like the comics._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__The plot's getting somewhere as the main characters make their debuts. Some action and then some will be appearing on the next chapter as the story goes along. _

_Constructive criticism, opinions, questions and comments are always appreciated._

_Thank you to all those who had reviewed, put this story on their favorites or alert list and read it._

_The real good parts are still a little ways from coming._


	5. Messenger Missing the Hidden Message

_**Author's Notes: **__Been a rough week, so I apologize beforehand for the overly 'angst-ness' this may have presented. This was actually what I intended to show, but maybe went a little overboard with it. The characters sure as hell weren't helping either. They wanted it. Some bashing is presented in here, once again reminding all is with a cause. In here we finally insert the horror aspects on the story, but it's an introduction. More will be added now that the first step was taken. Also, the age chart is at the end of the chapter and will only add new characters to the growing list for reference purposes. If it gets too long—an inevitable point—I'll see to it. Shorter than the others, but had to stop it there since it got in the way of the next one. Oh, and still in the hunt for a beta if anyone's up to it.  
><em>_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary:**__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, 'gore' descriptions as well as mentions of violence/abuse towards infants, and mentions of death._

_Saturday December 3rd, 2011 Words: 3,601_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter V.- Messenger Missing the Hidden Message._

_~- 04:40hrs. Queen Household. Old-Star City, California._

"But I HATE HIM!" Lian Harper shouted at the top of her lungs, Ollie throwing his hand into the air maddened by the fourteen (1) year-old adolescent living under his poorly kept roof.

"I know—the whole damn world knows it by now with all your constant screeching dammit! But I'll be damned if I let that kill you, so suck-it up and get ready!" He yelled, losing his tolerance with his only granddaughter who glared harder at him, and damn it to hell if that didn't make her look more like her father, bruising his heart more every day that went by.

"Daddy would've stand-up against this! And Uncle Wally, and Aunt Donna and Uncle Garth—and, and, what he did to Uncle Dick—" Those blue (2) eyes that mirrored his deceased father's burning holes to his last family left, "he probably did that to Daddy! Doesn't that mean something to you! You used to be a hero Ollie!"

"Tough shit kiddo, that's the world we live in, and that's what got Roy into it!" At his granddaughter's defiant stare he sighed, trying to forget how much her words killed him little by little, "You know I love you with all I got, but that's why I need to keep doing this—we're the only family we got, all that's left, and Roy wouldn't forgive me if I didn't do anything it took to keep you safe."

The girl hunched her shoulders, shame washing her after that little explosion.

"… I'm sorry grandpa, it's just hard to be with him... I'll go get changed." She responded deflated, picking at the hem of her pajamas.

"I'm sorry too princess, you don't have to come, just **please** don't make me regret that." Ollie stated, adjusting his expensive suit jacket and leaving for the military jet that awaited him outside.

"I don't know what you're talking about grandpa, see you in the morning. Be safe." Lian retreated to her bedroom, gear ready underneath her warm night clothes.

"You and me both kiddo, you and me both." She heard Oliver's parting words the door shutting close with the mechanical voice stating the grounds safe and her solitude on their house.

"Don't worry grandpa Ollie," she grabbed her bow, discarding her clothes to show the proud red uniform beneath, "_Speedy_ won't."

* * *

><p><em>~- 04:49hrs. Abandoned house. Old-Monterrey City, México.<em>

"I—I'm not sure." He bristles at the mess of unfocused images inside his head, turning the patented Bat-glare at his elder, barely keeping himself from pointing accusingly at the raven with that infuriating white streak on his scalp. It was in his best interests to avoid making Todd regret their newly-partnership before Damian found out the information he was withholding.

"You did something."

"Prove it." Jason all but acknowledged, the cigarette on his mouth almost done—his smoking habits had gone askew with the amount of stress he handled on a daily-basis.

"I failed to see the point in asking if you had intended for me to forget." The teenager retorted sharply sending his carefulness away with the overly-casualness the other man was portraying, and ending perplexed when Hood shrugged his broad shoulders and smirked back at him.

"Trust me kid, you're better off this way, 'sides," Jason talked as he went into the living room area, sprawling in the couch with two sitting spaces; he submerged one of his hands underneath the deflated cushion where he sat to retract a used folder, "that's what this is for." The former Robin extended the file for the current to take, leaving the cigarette-butt on an improvised ashtray above the simple table. "Might trigger what you need without all the gruesome shit you're better off of."

"Hm," Night-Robin contemplated grabbing the offered sleeve in addition to refuse on taking a seat besides his dubious collaborator, "next time don't bother Todd. I'm beyond such frivolities and well above your amateur levels."

"You sure weren't when you emptied your guts right before passing out back there." The other male swayed right back without a flinch, voice ever humorous.

The masked teen could feel his eyebrow contorting his domino-mask as it twitched in aggravation.

"What? No more bitchin'?" Jason taunted, "Well 'butter my booty and call me a biscuit'!" The second child of their outcast family continued teasing, his smile stretching even further in his derisive attacks, left palm slapping the corresponding knee to add pain to the injury of being outsmarted. "I let the brat speechless! Now that wasn't so hard was it Precious?"

"Shut it Todd! Your incessant ridicule hasn't any relation to the situation; it's beyond me why you even bother yourself with such trivialities." The teen growled removing his irate gaze from the individual lounging scandalously in that hideous piece of furniture, opting instead to scan the papers stashed without particular order were he stood, less he might attack that insolent idiot.

He was about to continue patronizing the absurd renegade except his throat constricted at the sudden array of images clipped to the documents held.

Jason was already prepared for the sudden reaction, and so chose to stare calmly at the Son of the Bat.

The photographs seemed to be taken by diverse individuals, the ones without notes obviously from Hood—at what time(s) he knew not, everything had happened so fast for him in only that juncture—the camera lenses adjusted to the pitch dark terrain with candle-holders that had barely illuminated the surroundings, thus making the definition pristine, just like they had with their optic lenses, he vaguely reencountered.

'_Gruesomely_' so.

Limbs the size of children inside flasks that resembled ornaments to a rancid tunnel on dust-filled shelves, some piles of decaying cadavers stitched to card-boards and papers above (seven?) metallic tables; there was blood-strewn body parts assembled inside one large tube with orange components, leaving a fume of red gravitating around them in the orange liquid, apparently not completely diluted or just added. His brain recollected that dreaded tainted smell, summing it with all those disgusting images Todd had delivered, crafting a wretched bridge to what he wasn't able to pinpoint exactly but his senses seemed unable to disregard—familiarity at it spiking some of his recently buried memories.

Some files had scribbled inscriptions with photos attached to them, obviously making some reference on the progressions from portions of flesh upon those tables they were being examined on; small notations that Damian hadn't the stomach left to read anymore.

Wordlessly he closed the dirty-vanilla folder, squeezing both eyes shut as if to endure better what Todd presented; he just needed one moment to digest everything, he resolved, massaging the bridge of his nose in hopes to alleviate his sick abdomen.

Jason said nothing, just waited.

For some reason that infuriated the teen even more. He needed an explanation. _Now._

"What is the meaning of this? And I expect a straight answer Hood or I swear this file will have nothing compared to what I will do to you." Night-Robin finally demanded, throwing the dreadful evidence shown over the table—he needed that thing away from him for at the present moment.

"It's what all of you have been neglecting to recognize." The taller male stated not losing another second into this conversation. "They've been using kids as lab rats underneath most cities."

"Negative. The rates of kidnapping on those—" Damian signaled the cursed item with a grimace, "—would have come to our attention." He shook his head, calculating the average amount of citizens per area they watched for, plus the ones on Empire territory they nonetheless protected under surveillance methods. They would notice that number of missing infants in the blink of an eye; as it was he didn't know where those came from. "It's impossible they could handle abducting that amount of children on more than one city—let alone the number you are suggesting."

"C'mon, throw a guy a bone or somethin'. You're killing me here, and I've _already_ died once." Jason fumed. '_You don't hit kids, you don't hit kids.' _He chanted, taking a deep breath to calm his impatience towards the generally sharp brat. "Turn the clock to when the world lost its sense. What had Leviathan focused on during the attacks on the cities?" He pushed his cigarette into the ashtray, a brief line of smoke extinguishing after it.

Damian shook his head, "The abducted infants were returned by Father's Company—that was before they knew it was Father under the Cowl."

"You mean _most _of the abducted kids." He made a gesture with his hand in the air, "You're good with numbers babybird, and I'm sure you read the cases." His blues darkened, "Tell me the number. Shit, I already know it, but _you_ needto admit it to yourself. Say it."

"…" The teen's mind speed-up, recollections on his determined attitude to find all those missing kids, how the monstrous numbers came down as they found them in litters after litters—all miraculously undamaged—to the sum left vanished. "25,654 stayed behind out of the 594,661 taken."

His gut constricted in response to the amount, shameful of the truth escaping his lips—he had failed his obligation towards all those missing.

"Now add the occasional John Doe's—street rats like yours truly that weren't listed." The raven in a leather jacket crossed his arms, feeling the need for another smoke. "You got at least 5 grand more to that." He signaled to the folder standing put on the table where his feet rested. "Congratulations, you found them."

"That doesn't make sense Todd," Night-Robin tore his mask from his eyes, feeling the need to wash his face repeatedly, "unless they froze them to conserve—"

"_Wake up kid_," Jason interrupted the teen's rant, "you aren't getting it." Then he stood, grabbing the offensive material and opening it for the brat to see. "The Bat must've taught you this shit—hell, your _Mother _probably did before him."

"_Don't talk about her Todd." _Damian hissed warning the renegade.

"Touched a nerve?" The older mocked cruelly, watching in satisfaction the obvious increasing tension that surrounded the last Robin of the flock. "Well too fucking bad Precious, get over it. She disowned you? Pfft! Big deal, cry me a river."

"You know nothing," Damian refuted, fist grabbing a batarang on instinct alone.

"I know enough, and _way_ _more _than _any _of your bunch as we have recently established." He jabbed right back.

"And what makes you so sure of that Hood? This event shows only one case you miraculously managed to pinpoint before we did—with the aid of your accomplices. It was _my mission _from the start as you're forgetting to recall!"

"Replacement knew _nothing_ on the hidden tunnel. I can stay here and chat about all your "_secret meetings_" underneath the Asylum, of Blondie trapped in the sleazy-hands of that redhead-brainiac—which by the way, hates all your guts—to the place you got in Star City, Central City, New York,…" His glare increased, focused on the azure eyes below him. "Need I continue?"

Damian was left speechless.

"Bruce sent you to check what that fucking alien was hiding, but your blueprints never came up with the possibility of another secret compartment, and since it was practically sealed from another point kilometers away from that facility I'm doubtful you would stumble on it on your own with so little time granted." At the other's stunned silence he allowed himself a satisfied sadistic smirk.

"Now stop avoiding the subject. You said you wanted in, you're in." His smirk dissipated quickly when the teen continued to keep himself quiet.

Growling, he cornered the other bird into the stool dividing the kitchen and living space; photos of his research before the eyes that mirrored Bruce's. "_What do you __**see **__in here?_" When Damian failed to answer immediately afterwards he provided what followed, "_These limbs have been cut recently. _The cuts are clean—some tissue healthy and bleeding. Recently chopped, not even pass the stage of '_livor mortis'_. How many dead bodies can you find that follow this trail of decomposing? If they were put on a freezer the flesh would show those repercussions—the skin color for a change. No chemicals show embalming to preserve them, given the levels of decomposition from the piles here. _All these are freshly cut from living beings_."

"What are you suggesting then Todd?" Damian shouted, shoving the evidence from his face and getting into Todd's; documents adorning their feet. "The parts are corresponding to _infants __**not teenagers**__! Unless they accomplished stopping time I fail to see your logic!_"

"**You don't think they could get a hold of that somehow?**" Jason growled right back, unwilling to lose his temper. "The Enemy has been holding them for years—"

"For WHAT?"

"_Crops_ you little **shit!**"

Damian's incoming argument was cut short.

"Those sick bastards harvest their parts—that's why they need them alive, fresh and _young_! Then they pile the wastes after inspecting whatever they were looking for on those tables and let them rot on their lasting and _artificially-injected juices_! You see now or do you need more **_drawings_**?" His left hand waved at the evidence over their feet.

"Then why wait until now Todd! If you had come earlier with this to father maybe the scenari—" Damian raged wildly, the discovery unnerving him into a frenzy state. Those smells had made sense right then, those twisted maniacs harvesting living beings…

"Don't bullshit a bullshiter kid, the big-bad Bat wouldn't done _shit_. And _this_ is where you come in handy. 'Cause you're going to show this to Bruce and maybe then you'll all might wake-up from dreamland and face the world we live in. Be sure to tell him this is the _censored _version too. Ungrateful brat; coulda show you what they did with their head and torsos." Jason muttered the last line as he pushed one finger against the other's red vest before turning towards the curtains with his back facing the bird. "You'd think what Dick endured woulda been enough for you guys to stop denying what needs to be done."

"_**Stop**_ _pushing him into the conversation Todd_." The younger raven grunted out, massaging his temples. His body shaking in vengeful rage and restlessness at the uncovered situation; he used the barstool to support his weight, unable to fully stand on his own after the unmerciful chaos he'd lounged into, and unwilling to let his brother's name be tainted into this too.

Unfortunately that only seemed to fuel Hood's vendetta against them.

"You have no right to backtalk dipshit." Jason snarled, giving himself another chant before turning to face the spent bird.

"We did what needed to be done. Brown and the others were next—Dick _knew _what he was getting himself into." Damian choked on the last part, remembering his last moments with the graceful acrobat. "_You weren't __**there. **__You have no right to dissent our decisions—__**his **__decisions. _Guess it's easier to hide like the rat you are." The Wayne directed his hereditary glare towards the other one, not agreeable to be told otherwise on the subject.

"**Bullshit**. You seriously don't think they had it all figured-out? Let's get this straight—you pushed him into their bunny trap and failed to take action when those repercussions fell on our heads." Fuck it, he needed a cigarette Jason relented, searching in one of his numerous pockets to light another. "Blondie and the other misfits in tights weren't anything but a decoy you all suspected but still were stupid enough to take. They needed the big ones—Top Dogs of the House." He raised his right hand to count them, holding his cigarette and lighter with the other one, "Bruce, Dick, Drake, You and Me. Put us all down and they needed no more. Brown and the others weren't gonna be put on display." He lit his addiction, taking a big smoke and pouring in the direction of the kid who barely stood. "Makes you wonder what they had planned for you and me."

"That isn't certain. We got all of them in time—and Grayson was supposed to come back, it was his call. No one intervened."

"_Exactly._ Nobody did. They _deserve_ to be put down after what they did to him—the whole thing was so staged they had his death sentence ready _**minutes **_after they managed to get him." He expressed completely exasperated, "Cameras, a big stage for the Golden Boy's final act against impossible circumstances," Jason began listing again with his fingers, satisfaction setting deep in his gut with the impact his words had on the feathered hero, "crowd ready screaming Bloody-Mary—the spotlight he loved distorted just to give Dickie the piece he got for being on the team." Another inhale of nicotine, nerves nowhere near calm. "_That's _my problem with _you. _A perfect replica to ridicule him as he died in front of millions wasn't enough for you to stop playing by the rules and get things done." He finished, finally feeling expended for the night.

He needed the bird gone, the rest of his energy had better uses to be put into, and time was of the essence.

"Take it. **We're done**." He said, directing his steps to the left side of the living space where the stairs for a second floor could be seen. "And I mean done kid," His head nodded at the mess adorning his white floor, the teen huffing but obeying nonetheless whilst he waited on the first step of stairs to make his ascend once they finished their meeting.

"Who's working with you? Every bit of information might be crucial in dire circumstances." Night-Robin asked subdued, mask replacing the dark blue on his face and papers gathered without particular order or attentive detail.

"Not this one. Forget it. Only thing you must do is get that to Bruce—nothing more."

The youth nodded somewhat stiffly, deciding the issue wasn't worth pressing for now and surprising his elder at the same. "How will I contact you?" he asked with the papers cleaned-up, assembled to leave.

At that Jason gave him a sadistic smile, "Aww, already eager to see me again? That's cute."

Damian bristled.

"-Tt- Stop being ridiculous Hood. Don't be quick to overlook you asked for my assistance. How else am I to relay this "mission" a success or Father's response in any case?"

"Oh I'll handle that babybird. Don't worry yourself on that. I got ways."

"This is ridiculous," the teen grumbled, "make no mistake Hood, this is the _only _time I stand put." The lenses of his green-mask glowered, "I'm _no messenger._"

Jason barked a hollow laugh which was dully ignored. Hesitating Night-Robin bit his lower lip before gathering his courage.

"… is it really that bad you won't let father or any other witness it?"

"Yes."

A nod, not about to debate such decision.

"And babybird," Jason redirected, "make sure to stay alive. And tell Bruce I say 'Hi'." He waved a tease salute bypassing the Robin's confused stare-

"How do y—"

-instants prior to the teen disappearing in a 'poof' of smoke—magically so.

'_Finally.' _Jason heaved a sigh, groaning loudly when another voice filled the soundless air.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had ditched me or gotten killed by the Bat's kid."

Jason rolled his eyes, "Please, if anyone could kill me it would be our sis' back in the new cave. Is everything else ready for our next move?"

A short snicker, "Yes, Cassandra—quite deadly."

Jason cleared his throat, his accomplice getting the point.

"Getting back to the matter at hand, yes, all is ready for our next move. Net's (3) investigating how much got out as we speak. And the newest addition got sent where you instructed. Think it will do us any good?"

"Considerably so. Get ready too. You're gonna play the whole four-quarters for what's next. I'll contact you when things settle and Net comes with answers." Jason all but dismissed his agent, talking to no particular space and renewing his efforts into climbing to the second floor.

"I just hope the kid's ready. For your sake Jason," the voice offered no play, menacing to the Gothamite's ears (a feat rarely accomplished), "you're not the only one with a vendetta to pay, and I'm getting tired playing it your way. One mistake and it's our turn to call the shots." The final words whispered in the area dissipating like thin air and finally leaving him to his private affairs.

"Got nothin' to worry about." Jason murmured to the wind, confident the other heard his final statement. "Fuckin' magic man," the man cursed, disposing of his cigarette-butt on a trashcan at his right in another but smaller living space in the second level of the house; three chocolate-colored doors surrounded most of the area, a pretty neat open space for the family that used to inhabit it previous to Jason finding it abandoned. Exhaling noiselessly he turned to knob to the master bedroom, opening it devoid of too much force to maintain the muted tones as long as possible; a small smile appearing on his handsome roughish features at the awaiting sight.

"Sorry to keep you waiting—and for all that yelling—but I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age Chart:<strong>_

_Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth – 71 years-old._

_Bruce Wayne – 49 years-old._

_Selina Kyle – 47 years-old._

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16 years-old._

_Barbara Gordon – 38 years-old._

_Clark Kent – 50 years-old._

_Diana Prince – 49 years-old._

_Oliver Jonas Queen – 50 years-old._

_Dinah Laurel Lance – 45 years-old._

_Lian Harper – 14 years-old._

* * *

><p>(1) So she should be a lot younger than that, but her role is very important in here, so I need her to be that age.<p>

(2) Okay, some comics depict her with green eyes, some blue—just like Roy's—but for story purposes in here they are blue—like Roy's.

(3) Another one of Jason's allies. Identity undisclosed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>__Once again I'm sorry if this went a little over the top. Got one week and a half for final exams left, and school's done for. Holidays won't be a problem, just some unexpected/expected eventualities RL enjoys giving that need to overcome. Regarding the story, well, I guess it's up to reviewers if there's a need to pinpoint something in particular, asides from that, I think the chapter was pretty self-explanatory, and gears are getting into motion. Jays collected Damian into his team—or did he really? And hidden characters make their debut—sorta anyways. _

_To the lovely Anon who left me a review recently I'm humbled you think so, and hope this was able to portray what I wanted too, and that when one was seething you seethed as well like you stated you did ;), on regards to your question, I fully intended to show you the answer, and if you look squint really closely you'll find I did. Rest assured it will be kept open for you to leave whatever you feel the need to do so. :)_

_Constructive criticism, opinions, questions and comments are always appreciated._

_Thank you to all those who read, leave reviews, and/or put this story on their favorites or alert list._


	6. Flying Wayne's

**_Author's Notes: _**_Hi there, this chapter contains too many material from past events of this story—specific data that's not necessarily that heavy, but still pivotal in here. There's a Flashback in this too, which is separated by being on italics, the thoughts on said flashback on normal font. After it we go to the current time-line with the quantity of time went before said memory.  
><strong><br>Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><strong><em><br>Summary: _**_Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><strong><br>Eventual Pairings: **Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

**_Warning(s):_** _Foul language, Gore descriptions, Violence, and mentions of Death._

_Saturday December 31st, 2011 Words: 9,045_

**Monday January 9th, 2012. EDITED CHAPTER:**

_The editing of this chapter was somewhat minor, however asides from remarkable grammatical/spelling mistakes corrected, there are also some slight changes on dialogues or actions, though it certainly isn't necessary to re-read the whole document if not wanted._

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter VI.- Flying Wayne's_

_~- 05:39hrs. Gotham City's Pier. _

"—ou think-?" Night-Robin blinked, confused by the cloud of smoke invading his sight that appeared just at the same time it dissipated; Gotham's familiar panorama substituting that of white walls and homey-structure. His brows furrowed, revising his gear and status for any malfunction Hood's anticipated-transportation method might've caused with no casualties.

His implanted GPS was off—most likely courtesy of the renegade middle child—however it unnerved him the amount of power Todd gathered to achieve this feat with nothing less than a sentence.

'_I should have scanned the grounds.' _He growled at himself, annoyed with his lack of discipline. What if someone else—perhaps his accomplice—had been there the whole time?

"-Tt-" The teen grunted, irate with the possibility of another one present at his moment of weakness. It was mandatory to find that two-colored rat. Todd had one too-many advantages shown thus far, and with the number and amount of power they had, it was unbelievable if he had not just seen the proof establishing those facts. His group needed to even-out the ground between both parties, less they might be playing right under Hood's claws—a feasible possibility.

For now he would collect himself, he contemplated short-lived, the file firm on his grip while the other one let out a line from his grappling-hook towards the City's Bridge, concentrating on the sensation of becoming weightless before opening his eyes to let go; launching himself underneath the steel of the bridge successfully and making a small nest to sit himself more comfortably.

Father and the others could wait for him. Protocol stated they would deem him gone within 24hrs since last known of, that left him with another twelve and a half hours or so to recollect himself enough to face them with his normal composure.

He found himself comfortable enough after some shifting in the confined area; one leg hanging in the air, the other one up almost touching his chest with one arm above said the knee, his masked-gaze lost on the dark waters below him, the usual sounds coming from the city's inmates dead in his ears, and the folder hold tightly in his grip.

Just for a little while.

* * *

><p><em>~- 06:12hrs. Sewers beneath the Police Department. Gotham City.<em>

He knew this was a bad idea. How could he not? Logic indicated it really wasn't in anyone's best interest—the possible outcomes having more negative connotations than he'd ever care to list, but that one _diminutive _probability that might come into fruition marked his stance, hidden on the poorly-kept drains beneath Gotham's Finest building.

Well, that, and the brat's weight on his consciousness.

Red Robin had done his homework—surprise, surprise—aiding himself with Black Bat and Batwoman's findings on their most recent operations on their Hometown City (Batman's would've been much better, if he had the access to them), there was something connecting the Gothamite's living above on the surface with the exterior world, more specifically **Omicron-Methropolis.**

Enough reason to warrant his dangerously-reckless action that involved going into the territory of Killer Croc or getting himself facing something equally unwelcome or unexpected.

Like the mission he'd sent Damian to.

There was that possibility loud on his head that repeated that maybe that connection with such Prohibited City could led them to the Humunculus' whereabouts. If he confirmed it, it was viable to conclude Damian had been captured and taken there.

He sighed, careful on keeping his gas-mask on while in the presence of those dark waters, verifying not one part of flesh made contact with them at the same time he slowly introduced one leg and then the other one into the mould infested liquid. Hopefully Croc was far away sleeping or dreaming about whatever he dreamt—maybe eating some poor soul, or any of them.

His quest for answers continued for several minutes, having reassured the inmate's improbable position near him to guarantee less cautious movement from him. He had his mask-lenses working to ensure him, not trusting completely what his GPS indicated of the lack of others in the vicinity of his position, following the blueprints he'd learned long time ago by memory with the others derived from the women's cases. It took some time for the young man to reach his destination point, but he did, adjusting the lenses to take a clear shot of the adjusted pipes before touching them curiously.

According to his head-map, he was just below the dumpster at the back of the Police's Building; a place where he noted some pipes had been changed recently for newer models, and there was a severe declension from where he stood up to the point some dumpsters remained on the surface of the City.

It wasn't precisely what he'd expected, but information was never unimportant. Modifications had been made to make that huge ramp possible—more so considering he was underground on sewers constructed long before even Batman was born—that signified another amount of probabilities they would have to study and consider. The explanation for the action the answer to this new mystery taken.

'_I need to get up there. Confirm if there's some secret passage or false vault that hides something valuable for the enemy.' _The third Robin thought, taking another step towards the cascade formed by the ramp, and stumbling on some unidentified objects blocking his pace beneath the dirty waters.

'_What…?' _Tim paused, hand already touching his utility belt on instinct as he took out his concealed Boo-staff with the other appendices.

"Lenses up 210%, Water Mode On." The man whispered, careful with the noise he created. He turned the grown staff towards the objects impeding his trail, jaw tightened at his distinguished obstacle with his heightened vision.

'_Just skeletons. Probably his dinner.' _The vigilante rationalized, using his staff to move the numerous bodies that interrupted his footing. He couldn't deny his inquisitiveness on the leftovers of the cannibal—they all mostly had more bits and pieces of their flesh than he'd known Croc to leave behind.

Interesting.

The ramp was solid, if not with a rock-like surface, ruling out his theory of hiding some secret passage. However, upon inspection behind the dirty waters cascading there was something off, so he got closer, making use of his staff once more to push and pick the ramp; the shell made some soggy sounds, not that unusual from something wet and under the wastes, but the shape beneath was filled with random protuberances and lumps. Deciding he could use more force behind his move after some prodding that let _something_ loose enough, he aimed at that particular point, adding pressure and then using his weapon as a lever he slowly dislodged the sticky part of the musk facade.

A dead body popping out halfway from it, interrupting the current flow of the cascade by sticking out at some random part within Tim's height.

Red Robin wasn't able to prevent the step backwards he'd taken from surprise, calming the rate of his heart that had spiked shortly after the encounter and retaking his previous footsteps, mindful of the splashing sounds he'd made and a little bit astounded Croc hadn't heard the sudden commotion.

Light wasn't needed to inspect the corpse, his lenses amplified at their maximum capacity, enabling his careful study of the dead maiden that promised to fall to the waters below her from the pressure of the cascade. He took some pictures with his cowl, the suspicion of Croc's abnormal actions that broke his _modus operandi_ confirmed. The body belonged to a middle-aged woman, age between 35 and 40, nice clothes—medical profession by the White (well, previously white obviously) Coat, no visual signs of lower status with the way her expensive brand glasses remained attached to her chestnut matted hair: a luxury unseen in this world, which undoubtedly gave her a bigger face than a Jane Doe. She hadn't many physical indicators that established her type death, just the dismantled body he'd expect from it being squashed to a wall, but certainly nothing definitive that could aid his research on putting a name to her face.

Her cheeks had numerous cuts and was swollen, both courtesy of the water that her body stuffed. He got closer, using his hands to remove her completely from her hidden tomb, gritting his teeth in silent effort and lingering careful of his footing. Some humid noises came as he managed to separate her little by little, ignoring the way her bloated rotten figure felt on his fingers, and at long last completing his task when one high-heeled leg left the place and stumbled to the floor with his own.

One thing was certain—this woman didn't belong to Gotham. Something impossible with the City's Fame—with everyone avoiding her like the Plague. He had a feeling there was something more transcendental to this irregular action, and Jane Doe was a clue to start resolving this new secrecy, so he would take her with him. The base wasn't near him, but he'd take his chances; one lesson he'd learned long time ago was to listen to your instincts, and when logic aided them, he never gave them his back.

He placed one of her arms above his shoulders, imitating one who would help a drunken friend walk, and missing completely as he made his way out another arm replacing the body he was taking.

* * *

><p><em>~- 06:59hrs. Gotham City's Pier.<em>

"You didn't return."

The bird's body tensed momentarily at being caught off-guard.

Unfazed, the girl dropped on a girder across her sibling; dark ends of her attire swooning with the light breeze that marked the summer season.

"Hm. I had another good eight hours before you renounced your search." Night-Robin responded haughtily, making the older Bat furrow her brow from a deep emotion that she couldn't quite identify. Years had passed, and she'd gotten better at many things, but if there was something she'd pinpointed out of all those aspects that changed and made her world as it was, it'd be her family.

Something she always saw Damian lacking in.

"No." Was her uttered response, taking a seat to make herself comfortable on a position similar to her little brother. "We gave you 72hrs." She told him, her low soprano carrying the weight of her words on the young warrior.

"Why?" His eyes squinted perplexed behind the white lenses. "Protocol states 24hrs. is the extended time. Death is not an improbable option, capture including same fate."

She shook her head, a gentle Mona Lisa smile on her beautifully exotic features as she viewed him a little forlornly.

"We're family."

"-Tt- Regardless of my father throwing his last name at every _pathetic_ charity-case that stumbled on his way, make no mistake—_I'm_ his only offspring." Displacing the hand above his knee he signaled the city they'd taken on as part of their heritage; mad sirens screaming with city lights still on illuminating the early morning, undistinguished barks of voices appearing sporadically disregarded by all and one. "This is _my _Legacy, Cain. It's my right as his heir, thus me giving priority to the mission and welcoming death if the circumstance comes. The mission is what matters, hence making your explanation unfounded and false." Then he rolled his eyes, adjusting his short hair underneath his black Hood attached to his yellow cape.

"Nobody is questioning your place—we're all part of this: one no more important than another Night-Robin." Cass attempted for the youth to understand, she needed him to see past his unrealistic expectations and think straight on what they really had as a legacy. Hearing him talk about death like a minor inconvenience wasn't right—those should be the thoughts of older warriors, not ones who were supposed to keep the path built by the former's effort and blood. "Just the same way we're all his children, no matter the origin, and one no more important than another."

"That's not true Cain." The adolescent told her in arrogant tones, "You're the one that keeps interfering between me and my father, trying to steal my place."

At this she was puzzled, remaining quiet to permit her partner to finish his explanation.

She hadn't imagined she would come across the proud Wayne on her approach to the bridge. The shock of finding the bird uninjured making her stop the next line aiming at his position to study his unnatural pose instead. That's when she'd gotten concerned, opting to wait some minutes to verify his stalling from approaching any of them before deciding to do so herself in search of answers.

His uniform was mostly intact, not much damage on it, his pouches with some equipment left; an all too normal appearance after any mission he'd completed—except for that yellow file the teen had been clutching.

Natural deduction pointing it as the source of the apparent turmoil.

"Don't act naïve Cain." He crossed both legs, finding his lower extremities with an unpleasant numbness from staying in the same position for so long. "He takes you _everywhere_, all the important dangerous missions, secret operations—you're his Lieutenant, his _Second In Command_. And that's **my **place Cain. It's _you _who's been usurping my throne: Brown's far-away, Todd's gone, and Drake only serves as an answering machine, whilst I'm left with simple missions any child could take care of." Damian rolled his eyes again, hiding completely the case from the female's view, sure that it would restore his worth to his Father on their Hierarchy. Todd went for _him _out of them. That meant something.

"You,… you're not understanding…" It made her sad, to see him thinking that way when their Father hadn't even considered the notion. "It is not placed upon his grade nor preference on our capabilities who does what—but his care for our life. We all play an important role in our own way." She raised her left hand, black glove with her adorning bandages; all five fingers straight for his inspection. "We are like the fingers of his hand—all different, but with the same importance; he loves us and needs us that same way one needs his fingers. You're wrong to think like that. And wrong to assume your involvement like you do too."

"I'm not. He still takes you with him."

The raven-haired woman put her hand down, standing-up on the metal piece. "You're young Damian." She spoke with a wise tone.

At that the other raven copied the woman's position, using his larger frame for intimidation purposes—Cain sure was petite—though if it made any effect whatsoever was unknown.

Probably not.

"Nonetheless I bear more experience than all of you combined, _and_ the maturity needed to place death as an eventuality instead of avoiding it because of fear."

"That's not it. Your age is not an inconvenience Damian—it hasn't been for any of us who've traced this path before you." At that she saw her sibling's tense muscles relaxing for a millisecond, enough to warrant his attention at her words. "Just gives you more the right to live longer and ensure the effort made or accomplished is kept in place." She finished, giving the youth a soft smile at his perplexed features—he was but a child, even if he wanted to admit it or not, and it was their obligation to guarantee his survival.

"-Tt-." Damian bristled, taking his grapping hook out at the image of that guilty-harlot smiling at him like that. It was enough talk anyways. "Regardless of your silly notions I'll take my rightful place. Father must already know you've found me, so we might as well return to the Base."

She shook her head once, also preparing her line to swing for the Buildings. "I come here often to think."

"… -tt-, then you've been withholding valuable information from our General. Hm, what our father sees in you I'm baffled." He made a pause, knowing the ex-assassin had perceived the file. "Was Father the one who taught you that analogy?"

Her smile became nostalgic, "No, someone did for him,"

And she knew she didn't have to say anymore as they crossed the skies at par with the rising morning towards the sewers where they would meet the others now that Cass had informed them of Damian's reappearance.

She knew not what had happened and would undoubtedly remain so until Batman saw it differently, but for now, she felt things weren't as bad as hours ago when another finger of the hand was taken.

All would get better.

* * *

><p><em>~- 09:54hrs. Fortress of Solitude. Kal-El's Home and Second Base to the Empire.<em>

"Hey! Dinah! Wait up!"

The aforementioned blonde suppressed a frustrated sigh at the voice, barely keeping herself from massaging her temples in exasperation.

She did not want to deal with Ollie of all people.

The former Bird of Prey had already a pissed-off irrationally-delusive Kryptonian on her back—then like that wasn't enough she had encountered The Amazon Queen not five minutes ago, enduring her derisive comments of her person backed-up with one nasty (and _strong_, don't forget _strong_) shoulder shove.

On top of that, she still had to pay Kent a visit to convey her report on their Base and Secret Point Alpha Operation—and the news were far from good; plus, she also had to have a little chat with a certain teen before things headed towards a rough path.

Today was **_not_** the day to mess with her.

"Dinah! I said 'wait up'!" Olivier Queen ran to her side, palms smoothing his yellow locks in place from his abrupt run towards her. "Geez, you on to somethin'?"

Dinah remained unimpressed, raising a perfectly thin eyebrow at her ex-husband; arms crossed over her chest and black boots tapping impatiently for the man to make his point.

"Okay okay, you're pissed, mind telling me why?" The blonde man added with his usual cocky smile, trying to light the fire on the Pretty Bird.

Who only glared in response.

"What do you want Ollie? I'm busy right now."

"Jus' wanted to talk to you Dee!" Ollie responded offended, "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

"Look Ollie, I don't have time to chat, and if I would it wouldn't be with you." Canary dismissed him, resuming her walk to Superman's Conference Room mid-sentence, but being yanked back to her ex after finishing with a firm hold.

"Dinah, I'm just worried about ya. I mean, look at you!" His grip on her forearm went tighter. "You spend all day who knows where, doing the dirty stuff for Big Blue, ignoring your coworkers—hell, Lian hasn't seen you in _ages! _I'm worried."

"You have nothing to worry about Ollie, I'm fine, and _unlike you_, do my part to preserve the place _I've_ _gained_." Dinah hissed dangerously, getting out of the archer's hold.

"Really? _So screwing Kent's in your job description?_" Oliver hissed venomously, unable to keep his tongue from betraying what was supposed to be a casual conversation to regain his past wife; the jealousy unbearable at her cold tone and reestablishing the hold. "Jesus Dee, he's _married! _I thought I was the _bastard 'round here!_"

Dinah rolled her blue eyes, dislodging the clutch easily with experience, giving the other hero her attention for the moment.

"You're one to talk. It's none of your business what I do or not—we're not married anymore, but don't you dare suggest I don't watch over her." She pointed at him with one accusatory finger to his chest, glaring dangerously. "_Who do you think keeps Kent from knowing about little **Speedy**?_"

Oliver's green eyes widened.

Dinah growled, careful to keep her tone low, face almost touching her ex-lover's with her high-heel boots, "You're lucky I _love_ that girl like I do, and actually work like I'm _supposed_ to do, or else she would've ended like all the others a year ago."

"I—"

"_What?_ "Have it under control"? She's one of the few that remain pure from the catalysts of the war Ollie—you _know_ that. With what happened to Roy and how _you **failed **him _the least you could've do is take better care of your granddaughter. _I_ had expected you'd take care of _my son _Oliver Queen. Won't make that same mistake with his daughter—_my _granddaughter." Canary took a step away from the man, intended to leave.

"And I'm not sleeping with him. He's hollower inside than you are." She finished, leaving the other bad-tempered hero in silence before continuing her path for the Secret Conference Room that only Superman and her had access to—the place where the Kryptonian would be waiting for her.

* * *

><p><em>~- 10:09hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"Damian!" An oddly proverbial female voice chanted heading the teen's direction.

To say the Wayne siblings were astounded by the blonde entering the grounds with the good-natured Butler was an understatement.

They had arrived shortly after their talk, Cass informing the Bat on their travel of Damian's well-being, confident Alfred was on the same line listening to her every word and the teen's continuous grumbling at her side. Bruce had commanded both to stay on the Base and wait for him, adding exclusive care to mention his son's performance as something of his interest when he came back. While Alfred had greeted both of them warmly and mentioned he'd communicated already with the others of the youngest's appearance, Cass had made it her purpose to maintain her little brother otherwise occupied, knowing already something was off.

The Duo had been reading quietly the past couple of hours, the black-haired female adding small comments on the novel she had borrowed from the English Agent before Stephanie emerged apparently out of nowhere after years away on the territory of Old-Europe.

"-Tt-. Brown. What an uncommon surprise you are." Her brother told the other woman indifferently from his place a few meters from her, making the Wayne-girl shake her head slightly in amusement.

The boy was so predictable it was somewhat difficult to not find it endearing.

Stephanie puckered her brow, an action that made it all the more entertaining for the ex-assassin sitting quietly in her place.

"You haven't seen me in **years** and that's all I get?" The fair-haired currently in her Batgirl costume looked at both her and Alfred with disbelief. "Seriously? Not even a "nice to see you"?"

"Too soon. No matter when, it'll always be too soon to see you." The teen in his own nightly-attire responded without moving an inch, Stephanie glaring at his spiky head.

"Haven't lost your charm huh? … little demon…" The young woman grumbled, crossing her arms under her chest before catching the other female's attention with her blue eyes placed on her direction.

"_Cass!_" Stephanie screamed, earning a little raised eyebrow from the abovementioned at the high pitch her friend made with her name, colliding unto the floor with her chair before she knew it—a warm body on top of her own hugging her tightly.

"I've missed you _so much! _" Stephanie laughed gleefully.

The daughter of the bat returned the loving gesture with marked emphasis, thirsty of scarce affection that reined their life.

"Me too."

"Let's not part **ever** again!" Her friend insisted, voice muffled hiding her beautiful face on her collarbone. Cassandra caressed her yellow locks with care, nodding in understanding.

She had missed her friend deeply.

"Does this mean you've left that Redheaded-witch for good?"

The raven-haired woman shook her head slightly at the tall teen's antics, knowing full well the youngest vigilante was glad of the other woman's presence too.

Now they only had to wait for the Bat.

* * *

><p><em>~- 10:33hrs. Secret Conference Room. Fortress of Solitude. Kal-El's Home and Second Base to the Empire.<em>

"I don't know how else you want me to say it my Lord: _it was **impossible **to make the search **work.**_" Dinah repeated at the end of her nerves to the irate alien Lord. "Look, if they'd found something about it we'd **already **know. There's nothing else we can do but take another measures that reassure the safety of Points Beta through Epsilon, and that's only _after _we establish the consequences the loss of Point Alpha may have triggered. The Superiors and yourself must have foreseen this scenario as a possible eventuality—"

"**Never. **This wasn't meant to happen **ever**—there's no back-up plan!" Kent growled, throwing the chair out of his way and breaking it with the amount of force used.

"Nevertheless and with all due respect _my Lord, _those steps are the correct ones to follow. Another one is the destruction of that facility to ashes—if nothing came out we shouldn't give away the possibility of it happening. Then of course, is the re-location of our secret weapons to avoid this happening again." Her blue eyes cold, voice betraying nothing—the perfect soldier reassuming her poise.

"… go handle that. I'll take care of the rest." His knuckles went white. "Just make sure to burn it to ashes Canary, if this comes back to us…"

She nodded.

"…it'd change everything."

* * *

><p><strong><em>~-Flashback: Year 2013. Streets of New York City-~<em>**

_The bullet went through the helmet covering his eyes, effectively killing him instantly and Jason smirked as he kept firing at the rest of those soldiers chasing him in the alleys of New York city, each bullet meeting it's designated target, not requiring more than one to put each one of them down—this was a game for him. Bull's-eye practice._

_Plus he'd been running out of Ammo._

_That wasn't a big deterrent in itself, just needed to pack-up with more fuel, but of course his solution was currently unavailable as they lay motionless on the dirty streets he kept trailing circles around._

'Just fifteen_—' another shot at a soldier's chest, sending him sprawling to the floor, '_I mean,_ fourteen _more and I'm off._' He thought wickedly, crouching next to a pile of black full-bags to avoid another array of shots at his back. Pausing for a calculated second, he used an old rusty-batarang, hitting one skinny foe straight in the face, the strength behind his action more than enough to make that man lose his headgear, knocking the wind out of him. "Stop wasting the fuckin' Ammo assholes! What fucking else am I supposed to get out of this shit?" He yelled pissed-off running straight at them, dodging the badly placed projectiles with practiced ease._

_It was always the same with those scumbags—they could barely handle fire weapons, but in thinking they did, fighting one-on-one was left unattended most of the times. A great advantage for someone who had been extensively trained by a paranoid-obsessive-emotionally-retarded-perfection ist with no actual life behind the mask._

_This was almost too easy; a repetitive choreography with every squad he searched to exterminate to move on to the next one in line: high kick, spin, crouch, elbow on the gut, fist on the jaw, hand above the back of the exposed neck, snap, break the neck, throw at opponent, go to another one, hit at both sides of the head, create dizziness, move the useless meat as shield for upcoming attack on the one resurging—repeat the dance._

_He was just about to finish the last one, making a reverse jump to land on the meat's back and break his skull with one boot, when he was interrupted and robbed of his final perpetrator, so instead he raised his FNP-45 at the unexpected intruder—a good one considering he was oblivious of its presence._

"_Easy, easy; I'm on your side." The figure explained entertained, raising both arms in rendition and offering peace. Jason rolled his eyes behind his red helmet, the trigger ready to be pulled, unmoved by the bullshit coming from that piece of filth._

"_Since when sweetums?" He mocked the intruder, finding amusement on the tiny momentary tic at its face. "Far as I'm concerned, you're on their side and I'm a shitload lucky to hit the jackpot!"_

"_Jason, if I had wanted to kill you or turn you in I would have done it already."_

"_Says the one with the gun on the head." The younger responded cockily._

"_You're out of ammunition. Look, I don't have much time, and I need to talk to you."_

_He couldn't help to roll his eyes again—an action obviously unseen, humoring the other when he crouched to the piece of meat closest to him in order to collect his prize. The threat was understandable to the traitor, the confidence on his abilities proof enough to state the obvious repercussions if the other part decided to make a move: death._

"_It seems needless to say, but I didn't want the things to turn-out the way they did. It wasn't what the plan stated, so I understand your apprehension."_

"_You're right—it's needless to say the shit hit the fan when you backstabbed us first chance you got. So move along or stay in line for the bullet that's promised to that fucking head of yours," He went for another one at his left, rummaging all the pockets on their fucked-up-ugly cargo pants (his' had _style_)._

_Teeth gritted on the other one alive in the alley, making a sleazy sense of satisfaction dwell on his stomach. He wasn't lying either—he'd been looking for a chance to kill that motherfucker._

"_I got data of your interest Jason."_

"_I'm sure you do—but I can take that by myself. Better than put my trust in your bullshit. Now scram, or let the chase begin." He said smirking deviously, sure the other one could hear the mischief and desire of vengeance of his part. He knew the deserter wouldn't leave—was counting on it actually—but even if he was mistaken, his priorities were to stock himself with everything handy, and only then he'd chase after the overpaid-goon._

_He'd been plotting that murder for three years anyways. What were another few hours?_

_Said "goon" shook its face. "It's more than that Jason," it told him, delving into the shadows of the alley to disappear slowly from the place "it's _closure_, something you'll never even dream on your own."_

_He huffed, unmoved by the words and counting on the lenses behind his helmet to seize its position on the dark. The streets had settled down after his chase finished, the majority of the city opting for surrender against the enemy, with some other few resisting and fighting on their own._

'_Bout time._

"_You never found the body."_

_He froze momentarily; talk about bulls-eye, resuming his rummage with another poor bastard a few meters from him. "So? What is it to you anyways?"_

"_Like I said, _closure. _Meet me in his old place here in the city in 10. Believe me Jason, you'll want to hear this." The figure leaped into the darkness, vanishing from plain sight but his own. He glared, perfectly aware of that one learning of his hideout and eliciting a low dangerous growl deep in his throat._

_That bitch would _not _get near his _house_._

* * *

><p>"<em>Get your fucking ass out of <em>my house _bitch." The Red Hood snarled, kicking the door open to the place he'd inhabited for more than two years in-a-row now. A new (for him anyhow) .45 Caliber UZI directed at the asshole's face who was pleasantly seated in _his _couch in the living room. _

"_And here I thought you wouldn't rise to the bait. I like what you've done with this place, keeping it nice and… clean."_

_No more patience resided on him as he shot a couple of bullets at that filth's face—who admittedly dodged them without breaking a sweat, standing now on the far end of the hallway that led to the bathroom. _

"_Okay, okay, easy; I'll tell you what I need to, you'll listen, and if you're still not interested I'll leave and won't ever mention this place to Big Blue. Deal?"_

"_What do you gain with this?" He asked at the brink of his tolerance, baffled at his inner battle that made him unable to seize his enemy's life and worst made him cling into a long-lost hope of finally having an end with that part of his past._

"_I told you: closure. Here are the facts: three years ago, you tried to recover Dick's body."_

_He shrugged, removing his jacket and humoring his curiosity._

"_So I wanted to give my brother a proper burial, sue me." He said unmoved, talking about it with the same way he talked about his own death—tongue sharp and darkly witty. Resentful._

"_The records show you tried to regain his corpse twice, one day after the other one, which obviously ended as a failure and then you made no more attempts. May I ask why is that?" The other one inquired, trying to keep a civil chat and already accustomed to the younger man's imprudence._

"_Got a thing with that number." He answered dismissively, "And I know that you only got two fuckin' tries to accomplish anything—one more and it's Out. Plus, it's not like it changed anything in the end."_

"_Well, that must be taught from your father; apparently Bruce had that matching notion, seeing how he attempted to do the same as you exactly those days, but at different hours." At that, said bug got closer to where it had sat before Jason got violent, taking out a miniature CD and tossing it to him with a perfect catch on his side. "The girl—Cassandra—tried to infiltrate the base at least five times in that week alone, seizing her moves afterwards; then we got Catwoman, who appeared on three different occasions for a period of five days on our cameras. That Brown girl also made five moves with anything but success on her part in that week. Tim was a persistent one, with eight fruitless shots on a four-day basis, but falling short to that unruly child of Bruce, who registers the surprising amount of seventeen futile attempts in the short span of nine days after calling it quits and moving on. And I'm not counting the other unique tries from Kate or Bilal as significant."_

"… _that's it?" Jason barked out with a hollow laugh, playing with the tossed technologic-item between his fingers throughout amused, "You wasted my time with this shit—everyone _loved_ the fuckin' Golden Boy, it's beyond me how you seem moved by those crappy-actions when it's the fuckin' natural course. Little surprised at the goddamn brat's insistence, but that's his inexperience talking. Plus, you're missing some Big Shots on that data you're delivering." He talked, referring to the remaining redheaded-friends of his deceased big-brother. "Ya know, the ones that probably decorated Kent's backyard and didn't manage to make you give a shit."_

_A smile—too empty but too cocky at the same time; it only made Jason uneasy seeing it in someone else rather than himself. "No, I'm not. See, that's where I'm going at. As you're probably aware since you've brought it to the subject, both men known as Roy Harper and Wallace West appeared to be on your band the same day Richard Grayson was captured and killed after being M.I.A. for weeks. What's remarkable in here is that there wasn't any endeavor from their part to recover the body of their deceased friend immediately afterwards—_but _three weeks later." The intruder recounted matter of fact._

_Jason wasn't getting the point. Instead, was becoming hastily irritated once more._

"_Aaaaannnnddd that's important 'cause both shitheads got killed five months later…? 'Cause that's jus' goddamn common sense when you do everything _but _cover your fucking destructive-traces. 'Sides, they had some shit done to them; poor bastards couldn't even move when they got to the safety of the Bat's place." The black-haired man scoffed scathingly to at least share his annoyance and twist the knife deep in the other one._

_An action completely useless when the other party brushed-off the comment to proceed with the talk. Quite a feat considering he knew that was some brand-new piece of information this apparent mole wasn't aware off of both Original Titans._

"_The documentation on Kent's folders specifies that after four poorly-arranged tries from West, distributed on a span of 44 hours, at scouting the area of the Fortress 22 days after Grayson's murder, there wasn't any other movement directed at Superman's base, rather to another point on Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania from Roy Harper, which, according to the computers on the First Headquarters of Leviathan, were also done but a few-hours before two of the latest attempts West made."_

_The vigilante sighed loudly in aggravation._

"_That's not news for us Sweetums. I'll save you some spit: West and Harper went with Bruce for help, professing some crap about Dick's whereabouts back on the City of Steel. The Big-bad-bat went, found nothing but shit, and declared those idiot redheads crazy—something I fully agree on."_

"_Yes, and no; shortly after Roy and Wally failed in the mission with Bruce—six days to be exact—they returned to that facility and stole most of the data collected. They did a pretty good job with Wally being the bait while Roy searched what they needed. It was on that attack when Leviathan realized both men had broke-in that the order was given to eliminate the state and all residual traces of what was in there. I'm sure you did some research too and came up empty-handed."_

_Red Hood shrugged, not upset with acknowledging a failed mission._

"_What I need to pinpoint in here is that all along Roy and Wally knew something big—big enough to scare Leviathan into destroying an entire state that produced a considerable amount of steel and resources that would undoubtedly end-up benefiting their growing Empire—was going on in there. Those previous shots West took on the Fortress weren't what one would expect from _The Flash_, only amateur aims that were obviously meant to distract the enemy from his partner's—Red Arrow's—presence doing the real deed."_

_At seeing Jason's interest slightly piqued the figure wasted not one second to continue this information-fest._

"_Next, both young men are registered on Baltimore a couple of days later to the bomb released on Pennsylvania, entering some unused factories and the Baltimore Raven's M&T Bank Stadium before disappearing from their radars for approximately four months and eleven days. Incidentally, said factories and Stadium were burned to the ground once Kent found out of the younger male's visits. Harper and West were located at the newly formed ruins of Old-Brooklyn after said time, before vanishing into thin air once more for another 9 days, at which they were found infiltrating an Old Bank in Denver, Colorado. The records specify they both went full-on on their attacks to that seemingly-abandoned Bank, entering the grounds _19 _different times in the impressive amount of seven hours and thirty-four minutes span before disappearing completely from the map—records and testimony from Superman himself indicating the resulting capture and subsequent death of Red Arrow and The Flash in their confrontation with Big Blue." There was a moment of silence to permit one end to process the awful amount of information while the other one took some air for that very same reason before they continued._

"_Now, summing all those days and hours that covered this series of unrevealed events—"_

"_It's five months and twenty-two days after Dick was murdered, give it or take. It's also within the range of the estimated date that ass-face motherfucking Replacement estimated before declaring both losers dead." Jason interfered the bug's comment, having taken note of the dates and numbers for further investigation if the need came. He took out a 'simple' Beretta XXX-TREME, toying with the weapon as he understood the point that treacherous scumbag was heading too._

_Nobody went through all that trouble of investigating something (especially those two assholes who had nothing going for them on Detective Skills) to just let said research on hiatus for almost five months and then went full-on on some "random-ish" place with that focus and intensity—dying in the process by the way—without a valid reason. If there wasn't shit to their search Leviathan wouldn't had even batted an eye on them, let alone obliterate everything they left after._

_Something hidden—maybe a weakness? Its identity? To this day he knew not of the face beyond each catastrophe on this world. Dammit, if only those idiots had confided in him he wouldn't be left guessing after some fucking stories from a two-faced ex-comrade._

"_Yes." The now intriguing mole confirmed his calculations, poker-face ever present. "I came into this almost eight and a half months after it happened, and just until recently have collected all the requiring data needed to confirm my suspicious by joining the dots and lines."_

"_Which is?"_

"_They weren't after the enemy—not even Superman knew of Leviathan's identity back then—but was the _only one_ Leviathan trusted absolutely in, therefore, the single one they would have no problem with when he found something while detaining both Harper and West from meddling in their business. Something that if discovered could potentially change their marked victory to failure with the way they concealed it." Cold eyes narrowed, basking in the blanks of the helmet in front._

"_I've got a fresh trail and the means to look more into what exactly went on Denver that day a couple of years ago, and if I'm right Jason, this might give us what we need to complete the mission and destroy the Enemy for all it's worth."_

_Jason put the gun down, his back stiff with this new concept and renewed-hope filling his insides._

"_Closure."_

_A nod, confirming the former Robin's word._

"_Roy and Wally had it right all along Jason—in every aspect of their unfulfilled plans: Bruce and the others from your family can't get involved. I'm just asking for your help because there's no one else who can help me and at the same time, maintain this desire for finality like I do while being willing to do _everything _it takes to accomplish it. So, are you in or do I need to leave?"_

"_I'm in." Silence wasn't expected on either part. Jason was and would always be a protégé of The Batman, thus had weighted meticulously his options with possible resulting scenarios. So it really was no surprise when he responded straight away to the query. "But if what you're suggesting turns-out being true, we're a shitload off of our league."_

"..._Who are you suggesting? There's little to pick from considering most of the League members are dead and the rest are on the Empire's side."_

"… _I know who can help us." A smirk slowly encompassed his handsome face, and it became obvious from his satisfactory ambitious tone he was wearing it despite the red helmet. "And, for the record sweetums, I'm the head of this shit now; after all, y'all are gonna need my expertise to solve this shit."_

"… _fine, you roll the dice. Deal?"_

"_You bet—"_Net_"."_

_A smirk on the other's face at the nickname._

"'_Net' huh? I like that "_Shot_"."_

"… _I'll work on my own codename."_

* * *

><p><em>~- Present time-line. Two Months Later. 21:07hrs. Sewers beneath Primary Military Forces Department, Omicron-Metropolis (<em>1_)._

"Shit," Red Robin cursed under his breath, adjusting the angle of the small forceps buried between his Deltoid Muscle and Supraspinatus Muscle, aiming for his implanted GPS device.

This was the fourth time he'd had to deactivate it and send its signal to the currently inhabited Headquarters back in Old-Star City. He'd been following a set of clues that started from the body of the Jane Doe he'd found practically two months ago to this place; problem in here was that this mission he'd quickly seized to himself was kept from Bruce and the others.

After whatever had happened to Damian when his latest mission failed which led him missing from their radars, and then came back from wherever he'd been unscratched—Tim still had his suspicions of where and what the brat had been doing—Bruce had changed most of his commands on their time spent on the field and at the rear of it. That alone had forced an increase on their implanted trackers, pointing their locations every 128 minutes on queue.

Needless to say, his right shoulder was left feeling the repercussions once he'd taken advantage of helping the Dark Knight mold the new design of their radars by hacking it to trick his comrades of his whereabouts.

This was just something he needed to do alone—Tim was certain of the repercussions of entering the grounds of The Third Chief City of the enemy, though the possible solution surpassed whatever doubts or tribulations he'd needed to overcome.

Jane Doe was a prime key. Her decaying carcass hadn't shown any signs of abuse from Croc, that by itself had instigated the older bird's curiosity, and upon his analysis and constant research had managed to put a piece on the puzzle of that woman:

She worked on the Science Wing of the Military Department here in Omicron-Metropolis. Third Home of Leviathan. Whatever this high-class woman had done was pivotal to the end of the Enemy.

And there wasn't a thing he longed for more than that.

* * *

><p><em>~- 23:34hrs. Abandoned house. Old-Monterrey City, México.<em>

'_Jason!' _A voice hissed in the confines of his mind, waking-up the rebellious second-child of the Batfamily from his sweet dreams. He grunted, massaging his scalp and unruly locks of black that meshed with one single piece of white begrudgingly.

'_What? This better be good or your ass will be delivered in a plate dipshit.' _Jason responded bad-tempered rubbing his tired eyes and stretching silently. Putting on his boots, careful of not making a sound, he exited his bedroom, walking the small living space of the second floor of his home towards the stairs and descending them with languid care.

It wasn't so much that he hated being woken-up after having fallen asleep for so little time, what quickly turned him cross was the peaceful ambiance he'd managed to create having been put into a hold for some unknown matter by someone who wasn't supposed to contact him in another seven months.

This were the first _real _days of actual contentment after years of bitterness angst. Was it too much to ask for some alone time for himself?

"Don't get smartass on me. How long do you plan on staying on a sabbatical?" 'Mage (2)' jeered appearing right next to the older man. Features contorted in anger. "It's been two months already and you haven't done a thing to report back of your current status, nor have you given us any clue as to Point Alpha's description, achievements, or just about _anything_ on the mission to collect it!" Mage hissed hotly, tired of being kept in the dark. "Quite frankly, Net and I have been wondering if just 'cause you got your _Closure _you're not interested in ending the deal and repaying the favor with** our own**!"

"_Keep it down you motherfuckin' shithead." _The Red Hood let his hazardous presence known, using his height factor over his accomplice while standing face to face. "I made it perfectly clear for both of you cock-suckers that I **needed** nine fucking **months **to reestablish the connections on the mission factors. And I'd also let it clear that you _assholes_ were to play the invisible part. Net's supposed to be searching Point Beta or if there's any damage done to either lingering freakin Points while you do your crap and hold the cover the four of us need."

Mage was resilient to back down, glaring with all the might conceived to stand against their Self-Proclaimed Leader.

"Yes, well, that was **_before _**you completely **refused **to share—!"

Jason's blue eyes hardened, the color darkening considerably at implications of the other's sentence.

"_That's not up for discussion—"_

"Says who? The plan's simple; Net performed according to it, and so did I—yet you don't seem interested to keep-on going now that you've got what you **_wanted_**!"

"_What's the sudden hurry Princess?_ What _the fuck_ is the sudden hurry that has your panties so far rolled-up your ass that you can't stop bitchin' about my commitment to end _this fucking bullshit at all?" _The older one growled nearly at the end of his short-rope. They usually had some disagreements, thought those ended-up shortly after some quick snarl and sharp words from his part. The matter at hand though was too delicate to consider unbalancing, and those wimpy idiots had no idea of the repercussions that stood as a tough possibility with the results gained after said mission; granted it'd been decision to leave them on the dark for the present time, but it was for the best outcome.

"You said Wayne's kid was going to help us—it changed **nothing!** The only thing Batman's done is tighten his security and lack more sleep on his crazy schedule! It's like watching-out for **another** two guarding dogs!Net and I_ told you_ we shoulda went with Tim instead!"

A twitch in the corner of his mouth was the only indicator of his next action when the taller of the two fisted his naked hands on Mage's shirt, lifting said ally from the floor in anger.

"_The **Demon-Brat** has done what we needed. And_ **_Replacement_**_ has got no room with **us. Got it?**"_

"Really? 'Cause he's been doing fine on his own—alerting the Bases on Omicron-Metropolis **right now** of unwanted visitors, which, by the way, leaves us with **half-a-trail** now that they're closing the premises to capture him and will _obviously **burn everything we've worked for to the ground**_ just 'cause you didn't include the **one member** in your _dysfunctional family_ that could've really lend us a hand instead of being the hand played! **_How's that for starters?"_** Mage yelled, grabbing into the bigger hands of Jason to interrupt his hold on its shirt.

The man without his domino mask or familiar Red Hood blinked for a millisecond, a dangerous snarl that made chills run by Mage's spine (though it would be denied if stated or asked) at the revelation.

"**_What_**_ do you mean **Replacement's** in Omicron-Metropolis damaging **our** motherfucking Investigation? **Where the fuck is Net?**"_

"Obviously doing what needs to be done and informing me of your brother's deeds! You know, the one you_ didn't_ **want on _our side!_ You need to go and fight! **Or else its months of research **wasted!**"

"He's not ready!"

"**You don't know that!"**

"_Be careful with your tone bitch! I'm getting tired of your fuckin attitude!"_

"**Well that makes TWO OF US!"**

"_Screw it! I'm sending your ass back to—!"_

"_Wow_, you guys really suck at this." A new voice entered the increasingly violent quarrel, stopping both parts dead on their tracks at the new figure that rested smoothly a few meters from them.

"I—" Jason started but was roughly interrupted by a beyond-shocked Mage who looked nothing like a few seconds ago.

"Dick…?" Mage pronounced hoarsely, earning a well-known impish grin throughout the superhero community ages ago from said person atop the stair's banister.

"Hi _Mage,_" Dick snickered at the first use of the aforementioned codename, finding it incredibly amusing—since it really was. "Long time no see, _boy_, you've grown a little bit don't you?" The Romani continued, obviously entertained at the shocked expression of his old acquaintance and Jason's angry profile.

"I—uh, yeah,… I,… can definitely say I wasn't expecting this…"

Dick shrugged, unbothered by the other's sincerity.

"How long have you been hearing us?" Jason grumbled, massaging the bridge of his nose in exasperation at the smirk from his older brother and letting go of the taken aback Mage.

"Why? Was I supposed to ignore your meeting again? Oh, and by the way, _Tim's _name is _not_ Replacement, Jays. And it's _Damian, not _Demon-Brat. Tough that's a pretty close one." Dick answered without missing a beat, quickly turning his attention back to the other part of their Organization with a more serious countenance. "What was Tim's last status before you came here?"

"… he was unaware of the enemies knowing his stand. I'm not sure what gave him away to them, but Net informed me and I came here immediately afterwards to inform you." Mage replied still shell-shocked at the image of the raven-haired acrobat.

Dick nodded, standing up on the railing; facade mirroring his father's. "Then its settled. How soon can you get us there?"

"Effec—"

"'_Us'? _There ain't no _'us' _in here Dickiebird. Not unless you count me and Mage here—and we aren't about to blow this asshole's cover."

"Jason, Tim's in trouble and the Job's at risk. I'm going—whether you like it nor not."

"_You just got back here!_" Jason pointed at him with one finger, making Dick glare at the offensive limb. "_No fucking way in Hell _are we gonna risk blowing-up your cover _either."_

"I'm not asking you Jason—I'm telling you. I've played it your way so far, and if there ever was a moment to make myself known this is it." At his brother's obvious refusal Dick interrupted him before the other one could speak, glaring dangerously, "And I don't care if I just "got back". I've been doing this for a _helluva _more time than both of you have—dead or not. I'm going."

"Fuck it, do what you goddamn want… fucking little shit." Jason grumbled, going upstairs for his artillery, bypassing the railing his brother was standing at and looking at him directly in the eyes—an unspoken exchange between both ex-robins. "We're not giving away the element of surprise, so I suggest you ask dipshit over there to fix you something up."

Dick gave a slight nod, his overconfident grin reappearing on his familiar yet unfamiliar face towards the taller one in the room. "Already thought of it. Now let's go save Timbo."

The jaw of Jason tightened almost inconspicuously, that slight tension noted only by the other trained Detective in the floor, but unmentioned for the better.

"Yeah,… let's."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Age Chart Present Time-line:<em>**

_Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth – 71 years-old._

_Bruce Wayne – 49 years-old._

_Selina Kyle – 47 years-old._

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16 years-old._

_Barbara Gordon – 38 years-old._

_Clark Kent – 50 years-old._

_Diana Prince – 49 years-old._

_Oliver Jonas Queen – 50 years-old._

_Dinah Laurel Lance – 45 years-old._

_Lian Harper – 14 years-old._

* * *

><p>(1) Cities conquered had names changed with Greek or Latin letters, words, numbers, etc.<p>

(2) The other ally on Jason's and Net's coalition.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Notes:<em>**_And Dick comes back, but not without some queries regarding his reappearance, and other details that will be shown on the chapter's to come. The Wayne's are playing their hands, and Cassandra rocks. Next: a reunion._

_Oh, and a shout-out to Sam. Her stories **"Where's The Justice?"** and it's on-going Prequel **"It's Just Us"** are more than worth the reading ;). Just look on the Young Justice section._

_To the ever-loving Anon, oh Anon, you make me smile. I'm glad you can tell it's gonna have lots of twists and that it wasn't over-the-top. You'll also see more than a hint in here, though I'm glad you got it already :). _

_Questions, constructive criticism and comments are always appreciated._

_Thank you to all those who read, leave reviews, and/or put this story on their favorites or alert list._


	7. Shouldering what's Become of Us

**_Author's Notes: _**_For those who've read Chapter VI.- Flying Wayne's, I wanted to let you know it's been re-edited since I made an awful lot of spelling/grammar mistakes, and while on it, also adjusted some minor point on some dialogues or actions depicted. It's not mandatory to re-read it, since its not that different, just wanted to correct it. Going onward, heavy chapter ahead, mostly about one battle within the war, so after much contemplation I had to cut it. That said, the reunion I announced on the previous chapter's notes will be seen on the next one-probably. There are also more hints thrown in here of other circumstances, so maybe someone will detect it. First chapter of many of the year.  
><strong><br>Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><strong><em><br>Summary: _**_Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><strong><br>Eventual Pairings: **Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

**_Warning(s):_** _Foul language, Gore, Violence, and Death._

_Thursday January 12th, 2012 Words: 4,073_

**_Important: _**_Dammit, had to re-edit this one too. Lack sleep and make no moves to change that._

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter VII.- Shouldering what's Become of Us._

_~- 23:42hrs. Battlefield on Greyhound Bus Terminal. Old-Boston._

"…and then she's like, "Oh my God, _you're Stephanie Brown!_" and I just nod, 'cause what else can I do while aiming a sonic batarang on her aggressors?" Batgirl chatted a little out-of-breath dislodging an electrified rod aimed at her neck.

"Duck and change." Black Bat interrupted her story, the other girl following her command like a second nature giving her the space to rid of the blonde's attacker by knocking him-out with the base of her palm on his jaw; the latest Batgirl taking her place on their coordinated battle, keeping up to the fight.

"…but then, out of nowhere, I feel something heavy-ish falling on my head and fall to the floor, the army guys obviously taking advantage of my momentary fall and kicking me while some recharged their guns." A jump, long-yellow locks moving in the air with her movements to deliver a well-placed kick on a soldier's hipbone, and colliding a punch in the kidneys of another one nearby that Cass had already managed to destroy the gear off. Blue eyes turn towards the brown ones the mask hides, "So I get up fast as I can, barely dodging the bullets to find-out the woman had just _thrown _the sack she'd been carrying and was yelling: _"Murder! Kill her! She's Stephanie Brown! Kill her! Murder!"_ and out of _nowhere _the Resistance guys appeared and started _shooting _at me!" Three batarangs left her fingers, implanting themselves on non-fatal points of the soldiers adjacent to her.

"What happened?" The Wayne girl grunted slightly, adding her part to their chat enjoying their time spent together—even in something as awful as the blood-bath going on around them between both bands killing the ones they didn't got to in time.

"I left." She answered and Cass could feel the bitterness on her response. "I mean, it had been one _year _since somebody had called me that. Figured they'd be past it or at least acknowledge how I repeatedly beat my ass for it." Another kick aimed at her legs that she shunned jumping, and giving a spinning one of her own, catching her breath and thankful of not having the necessity to yell at her friend to be heard amongst all the battlefield sounds surrounding them with the help of their gas-mask implanted microphones.

One grew accustomed to the sights of warfare—she practically started two (1) of them anyways—still didn't meant she participated gladly on them; just did her part on avoiding the necessity of either side killing each other off.

The white lenses widened briefly, the information going through the machine on them showing the data of an upcoming menace towards them.

Cassandra acted on instinct alone, having been on the receiving end of countless bazooka projectiles on her own when she skidded with poise towards her companion, grabbing her by her midsection with one strong hold while her other unoccupied extremity had already went for the small detonator on her yellow pouches, slamming her open palm with it on the ground below them. A small explosion went by, debris of demolished concrete and dirt damaging their personas slightly due to the nature of the detonator; it was enough to warrant them a five-meter ticket below, right next to the piping's that let-out small sparks of unclean water.

"Urgh…" The body she covered at her side grunted in slight discomfort, "Cass, what the hell—?"

Black Bat didn't permit her to finish her sentence, already moving to lay on top of the blonde in her old skin and pushing her head to the destroyed ground before the distinctive sound of a fired-bazooka missile was heard just above them, exploding unsuccessfully a few meters where they used to be on the floor above. Quickly bypassing the danger, the daughter of Batman got up, climbing without deterrent to rejoin the battlefield, heading straight to the position the weapon was fired to find some military force reloading it. She ran, dodging most of the raging bullets or managing the ones with the least risk to her body hit her to avoid the dangerous ones while she got to her destination.

It didn't take long, (she was supposed to take the League after all) and pouches already out of batarangs weren't a deciding point on her actions as she took another detonator like the one she'd used to escape flashes ago, strapping it into her left palm when she stepped into the trunk of a bulldozed car outside the terminal to aid her leap, she slammed it fiercely on the military's offensive material; an electrical discharge coming out of it and adorning the large weapon in thunders of blue before she quickly kicked him and his companion of the way and moved herself from the bazooka before there was the immediate explosion the electrical charges on her detonator originated on it, rolling out of the way into an old Bus tire she'd spotted on her way to attack the Empire forces of now.

After the small explosion ended, Cassandra peaked from her refuge to spot the two fallen men breathing heavily on the floor some meters from her, studying their health states her computer showed: she had removed them from there to avoid casualties, but had not moved them enough to warrant a free-pass of injuries for the action—the purpose was to immobilize them before they took the State completely.

"**_Retreat!_**" She heard a soldier yell in the distance, the constant sound of bullets fired resounding loudly on her ears. On her overview she could watch Steph peaking through the hole, making her some signs with both of her hands to remain hidden for a moment. The blonde stiffening but nodding regardless.

Elegant nimble fingers started to type on her gauntlet computer, hiding more into the huge tire to avoid the blue hologram lights to be seen by the enemy. A list of intelligible commands appeared on the holographic screen as she worked focused on her task before those vast amounts of feet ran away to leave them with the repercussions of a retreat. Finding the codex needed for this occasion, she sent the commands to their Main Cave; confident Alfred would act as soon as he saw them, for she knew Tim was otherwise occupied.

Fondness swelled her heart at the immediate response from her dearest Grandfather, typing back the coordinates needed and receiving just as efficiently the answer of the coordinates gained. In no time, the Batwing (2) made it's apparition on the dark skies, soundless amongst the carnage, the impressive machine opened some lower gates, five long cables succumbing to the gravity and hanging between the black jet and the dark sky touching the ground 200 meters below it.

Cass nodded at Steph, who straight away dived into the hole completely, altering the tune on her cowl to protect her ears, the ratio wave on her suit to evade the damage to it, and the signal on her utility belt to circumvent auto-lock. Black Bat already prepared with those measures, adding two small plugs to her ears as the cables hanging from the Batwing started making a circle, gaining speed almost instantly after they started moving in a counter-clockwise motion. On such a close proximity to the soil underneath, pandemonium erupted on the leftover masses, who undoubtedly thought more of the damage they would deliver than it would actually be. Those same blue sparks came back to life, surrounding the cables from where they began on the jet to the place they ended; thundering bolts echoing loudly as the speed on their rotation increased. Timer counting down the seconds and accustomed to protocol, both girls remained unyielding when the energy collected imploded, surrounding in whites and dashes of electrical blues their coordinates for a couple of minutes: the light blinding enemies and foes for the Gotham females, who recovered their feet, not even blinking behind the force of the attack thanks to their toys, using their fleeting advantage of staying out of sight from their opponents to strategically position the small cubes left on their utility belts around the battlefield covered as much as it was possible before the rays of the implosion disappeared and left every mechanism locked and useless to their owners.

As expected, when the blank screens resided back to the slowing-cables, only the wave of an unbearable sound left behind with bodies clutching eyes and ears, not one weapon stood working, and both the raven and blonde women ran on contrary directions with all the force they could to keep the trail of cubes behind their leave, Cassandra grabbing the next ones and throwing them towards the places left to complete the circle as Stephanie copied her actions; the aim uncannily perfected as the pieces stumbled some centimeters away from the point of impact to fall obediently in the line traced by their calculations.

These two technological advancements had really added points to balance the odds of their side, keeping a semblance of control long gone.

"Cass! Now!" Steph yelled at her when she finished throwing the piece to end the circle—the men on the combat zone were adjusting their sight and hearing, and wouldn't take long to get-up on their feet to scatter away from their trap.

Nothing more was needed for Black Bat as she ran her fingers on her hologram (her computer activated by Alfred once the Batwing had finished its duty) pulling the lever shown on it by sliding her fingers on the image to switch on the contraptions. Sparks flew as the small cubes grew taller, reaching five and a half meters above the soil, where they connected instantly to each other by the magnetism produced, resulting in an impressive cage that resembled a field charged to a 67MV.

On the far she could almost see her friend heaving up a relieved sigh, and Cass could only share the relief. It was far from over, people from the rebellion trapped with their aggressors, nonetheless, without the assist of their fire guns they could manage transferring them back to the city with one inside the field and the other controlling things from outside.

Screams of fowl obscenities took her notice, the plugs on her ears long-gone as she took a deep breath and pressed the key to her utility belt, disarming it from her waist to roll it somewhat awkwardly around her wrist and hand. Asides from all the brilliance possessed on their allies, it was difficult to construct a glove that could part the prison-field preventing damage on them **and **have it the adequate size to carry it around on their pouches. Not to mention the short amount of supplies they could gather to keep their belts working, so it was natural to improvise using it as an insulator for the past years.

Like it was expected, soon as she reached for the portal they were heading towards her. It kept being far from useful, considering the entrance she made was petite enough for her to squeeze her way in, let alone those heavy-packed men; plus the fact that once she was in, her hand retrieved, closing the gate instantly, which earned some agonizing cries at the electricity forming the cage burning flesh at the contact.

By now the savage hordes saw their worthless equipment as a lost cause, those with the Military Emblem of the Empire attacking her on the spot as the carnage recommenced around her: Resistance combatants falling unto the opponents with brave cries filled of repressed antagonistic-rage backed with bloody fists and messy kicks.

Black Bat had no time to watch out for all; going from one opponent to another to put them off action, and restraining the one's from her side that lost themselves within their rage.

It took a considerable amount of time before the situation got manageable, Batgirl had taken care of the outside when she finally tied the last soldier on his place, her gloves bloody and countenance stoic when she walked to the field, readapting her belt on her broken wrist to open the gate on her side while her friend aided her pulling it open from outside, forming a door big enough for the Rebellion army to wring their way out.

"You okay?" Batgirl asked her with worried tones and she nodded, finally stepping outside after passing her the last dirty satchel filled with gun fires. They were locked, but a steadfast source of textile they used to assemble their suits, gauntlets and energy. Besides, the field wouldn't last forever, and they couldn't leave them armed when that time came.

She watched their surroundings; rebels nursing their wounded back to the Base inside the Station while other mourned the casualties, recovered bodies, and wiped the pieces left forgotten. Stepping onward, the daughter of Wayne motioned for her companion who obeyed silently after both attached the satchels of locked weapons to the Batwing, who pulled them inside the jet with the cables.

"Any clue where he is?" The blonde with her older skin asked, walking side-by-side with her. "Asked the guy at four 'o'clock, said he had no idea what I was talking about, but offered to take away our weight by killing the ones on the field. Said "we'll handle it, thanks," and went to another one." Steph signaled to a big-muscled man who was probably on his late forties and sported an impressive beard. "He's the Leader of this Sector, said to show him how he looked and when I did growled at me, telling me it was none of our business and left. That's why no one else seems willing to talk." She recounted shrugging her slim shoulders.

"… he's dead." Cass concluded, not changing the course to the bathrooms inside the Terminal, people glancing temporarily on their direction before resuming their tasks: the Bats had a High Place on the food chain within the Rebellion groups.

"So it's up to finding his body—you think it's still here? Reports say he's been M.I.A. for about a week." The younger woman asked, stepping into the ruined building. The Rebellion generally left the cadavers to rot in the bathrooms, though figuring out why was still a hard one for her.

The brown-eyed woman nodded, parting her way into the massive amount of decaying human life forms inside and out of the lavatory. While her gas-mask provided nothing but clean air, the wretched sensation of bodies leaking was enough to warrant a disturbed noise from her friend. She crouched, pulling them one-by-one away from said pile after scanning their profiles with her lenses to find a match to the picture of their subject given.

Steph kept guard behind her, obviously uncomfortable with touching people that had fungus growing on them. It was better for Cass that way; her friend shouldn't be forced to participate in things not even Tim was allowed to, and had confidence on procuring her objective all her attention with the blonde protecting her guard. The job was like all those before this one; messy. Some pieces were more damaged than others, some missing parts and another bunch crisped by flames.

Beyond the burnt people her computer caught something, rapidly disentangling the heavy corpse of a large man with small pieces of blistered flesh left on his cranium and midsection. She hauled him by the ribs, careful on avoiding damage to the fragile structure left behind, reclining it unto another dead forms to have a better access to his skull. Her hands pried open the entrance of his mouth, some insects that flourish in decomposed environments welcoming her sight as she took an imprint of his dental marks to have a match on her system, brows furrowing when it was declared so.

"It's him." Black Bat told her companion who turned to get a better inspection of the man they were searching. Cass ignored her glances, standing up from her crouching position in front of their target to search for another one with similar structure, and deterioration.

"… he looks… _weird…_" Steph confessed at the odd portions of disheveled flesh that looked almost ripped after it was burned. "Like they tore his flesh apart _after _burning him to death." She made a face, not wanting to believe the rumors that circulated over the standing portions of the Old-Continents of Europe, Asia and Africa about the American one.

"Cannibals." Cass answered the unspoken question, having found a suitable replacement for their assigned target. "It's probable they did, that's why there's only pieces of flesh left. The organs were taken by those scavengers just like what they could feed themselves after finding the body burnt." The woman behind the Wayne name bypassed the expression of horror on her friend's beautiful features, guilty of tainting her purity.

"… they really do that…?" Steph muttered helplessly, stabbing her in the chest at her hopeless tone of voice. "Thought those were just rumors, ya know?... huh,… guess things really went to Hell." The blonde kept muttering in fragile hushed tones, Cass tightening her grip on the other skull's Mandible and Maxilla bones, adding the pressure needed to slowly rip it apart without breaking the structure. She slowly carved with the cutting edge of her gloved fingers the bones surrounding the Maxilla Bone, making intricate patterns to cut the bones patiently. Then, with her thumb she added force to the Zygomatic bone on the left side, then to the one on the right, slowly travelling towards the Lacrimal bone on both sides with the force still behind her precise fingers to rip apart the upper part of the Bones belonging to the face; the jaw resting by her right thigh. The Nasal bone was broken, so the bridge to the Frontal bone was easily separated, leaving her with the piece missing for the dental imprints in her hands, completely separated from the cranium.

"… Cass… what're you doing…?" Batgirl asked uncertainly at her, and Cass nodded at the skeleton on her right, crouching back in-front of it to repeat the process it's unfortunate companion had been handed.

"No traces." The raven-haired responded only after finishing her task, taking their target's remains to the head of the other victim of war and planting the pieces as a child would a puzzle. It was obvious they would fail to attach themselves completely, still, Cassandra took out a small laser, carefully melting just ever so slightly the edges to the face, trying to recreate the scorched lines it had, and smashing the other ones with a heavily-packed punch to be free from the Empire tracking their methods. "They will come for him. The chips on his Molars pointing at him. It needs to look as it was left."

"Then why are we leaving the chips behind?" Steph asked oblivious of their reasons. Now she could understand a little better Barbara's denial on sharing missions. It was far from enough to keep her alienated from them for so long, but at least she knew the redhead's disgust on Bruce's actions was believable.

"The information we need is in his brain." At that, the smaller woman peeked from the holes made at the cranium, satisfied minimal parts of the brain remained there. "Specifically his Sphenoid and Ethmoid Bones. But everything can do at this point of decay." She stood, handing the blonde the ripped-cranium with regret. "… sorry. Need his body… clues…" she added ashamed at the other's face.

"…it's okay, don't worry about it." Steph added, trying to school out her disturbed emotions. "The plane still on position? We also need to clean you up." Batgirl kept talking, trying to change the subject at the remorse she caused the brunette.

Cassandra nodded, careful to carry the body as they went out where the Batwing waited outside. Grappling hooks was all there was needed, the female warriors ascending to the machine that would take them to Gotham's Base to move on to the next assignment. The Rebellion had instructions to follow with the captured soldiers, and in a few days, before the camp fell, one of them would be sent to assure those measures were followed. If not (and it usually was that way), they would handle it themselves. Today they had other priorities, and as their destination was set not one word was uttered after depositing the target on the rear part of the jet.

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><p><em>~-23:42hrs. Outskirts of the Wall around Primary Military Forces Department, Omicron-Metropolis.<em>

"I can't believe you were wearing that." Red Hood muttered conversationally, inspecting the premises for the entrance on the wall Net told them about.

"Hey, it's not every day I get the chance to. What can I say? Got nostalgic," Dick smiled easily behind the ninja grabs (3) hiding his face, quickly reaching his brother to nudge him playfully while he was crouched on the floor, "you would know about it 'Little-Wing'."

Jason rolled his eyes, not willing to admit the fondness to that old nickname back in his Robin days. "Sure as hell don't miss those pixie boots."

"You _loved _the pixie boots. I think almost as much as the scaly underpants." Dick said humorously, the sound of his voice odd with the Kevlar interfering, but enough for Jason to pinpoint the playful tone that gave into the banter they were playing.

How odd. And yet reassuring.

Shit, he'd been spending too much time with the acrobat.

"That's ridiculous—they loved _me._" He told his brother trying to sound nonchalant about the entire circumstance, just like those old times, only swapped… he was still getting used to the notion in some ways, now less than when it began. "You sure this shit will work?" He asked, finding the broken debris of the wall Net informed and inspecting the small hole; yeah, Dick could fit in there alright.

"Yes, Jays. For the tenth time, _I'm sure._" The Romani told him a little aggravated, but Jason couldn't care less about the other male's aggravation: this was too risky, and he'd be dammed if he was going to let his brother play the bait part without adequate precautions this time around—on _his _watch above everything.

"My acting skills are second to no one—at least that's what Alfie said." The raven beneath his form chirped amused, though he could detect the soft longing on the butler's name, resting both hands on the broken parts of the wall to fit inside. He could certainly relate to it, Alfred was Alfred. Plain and simple.

"Yeah, he said the same to me once Dickiebird," The eyes hidden underneath a domino mask and his characteristic Helmet hardened into slits, watching the smaller figure cross to the other side, "if anything happens call Mage." He bit out with his throat dry. This was far too dangerous for both of them, too much to save Restaurant Boy's skinny ass.

"Nothing will happen Jay, I've got this." That voice called behind the pieces of Kevlar, though it did nothing to quench his anxiousness. It was bound to end badly, Jason just knew it. "Remember we still got scores to settle," At that, the man outside the Third Empire's City grounds could feel those blue electric eyes darkening in silent promise, "_I, _still got scores to settle. It's far from over, so don't worry; just make sure to get Timbo outta here and I'll take care of the rest."

Before Jason could add anything else his brother was gone, the only thing left of him his dark siluette as it hid in the shadows of the artificially-bright citadel where Superman reigned viciously.

With Dick gone Jason had only thing to take care of.

Find that fucker's pale ass and kick it all the way back to Gotham so that he'd _never _dreamt of interfering with his affairs again.

He sighed, the need to feel a good cigarette between his lips strong but manageable. _'The things I do for that bastard.'_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Age Chart Present Time-line:<em>**

_Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth – 71 years-old._

_Bruce Wayne – 49 years-old._

_Selina Kyle – 47 years-old._

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16 years-old._

_Barbara Gordon – 38 years-old._

_Clark Kent – 50 years-old._

_Diana Prince – 49 years-old._

_Oliver Jonas Queen – 50 years-old._

_Dinah Laurel Lance – 45 years-old._

_Lian Harper – 14 years-old._

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><p>(1) See the 'War Games Arc' for one. The other one being this.<p>

(2) For reference I'm using the original model that can be seen here: ./_rKKLmAroGJ8/S_Nvn-gFlaI/AAAAAAAAA74/XxY7Ig6RCwU/s1600/batman-furst-batwing-blueprints .jpg Just remove the space between the first and last part to see the blueprints.

(3) See "Bruce Wayne: The Road Home" for reference on the suit. I'm using the one Bruce wore when he was spying on his allies before making his presence known.

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><p><strong><em>Author's Notes: <em>**_I love Cass. She's just so fulfilling to write, and Steph makes it easy when she's with her. I grumble more on the reboot... anyhow, rogue cannibals are now officially introduced, so there's one thing less on the list. More on them will be explain as the story goes on._

_Go ahead and read **"Where's The Justice?"** and it's on-going Prequel **"It's Just Us"**. Really, we might get some updates if we bribe the authoress with reviews *smirks*._

_I seem to have gained another great Anon, so here's for you guys:_

_I want to give my customary shout-out to my lovely Anon, who just made me grin like a Cheshire cat at the review from the latest chapter. This chapter was basically Cass and Steph and its for you, since your admission of loving those girls awoke my need to portray my adoration for them too. Hope you enjoyed it. There will be more Cass and Damian interaction since I share your thinking, so be on the lookout for it. Plus some Tim, who's a natural at everything. It really made me happy to see how well you distinguished those little things I want everyone to see. Don't forget for a second on things going into a messy path. If you had an idea later-on I would like to hear it, I've actually let little clues on Mage and Net's identities. And yes, Roy and Wally are the best ones in here. Doing whatever it took for their bro. Grumbling about reboot again... Yeah, figured it's not natural to just shove it, since it would affect the flow of things, but I'm intrigued on your shipping when the time comes and both pairings make their appearances more pronounced. As always, thank you so much for everything._

_And now, for my charming lurker (love that word) I appreciate you took the time to tell me so, it really is encouraging, considering how you gave yourself the time to say how much you're liking this story. I hope I can continue being on your lurking distance. B)_

_Questions, constructive criticism and comments are always appreciated._

_Thank you to all those who read, leave reviews, and/or put this story on their favorites or alert list._


	8. The Mourner's Gathering

_**Author's Notes: **__ It's somewhat heavy to read, since it encompasses almost all of the characters mentioned before—Main Ones anyways, though there were two I had to keep off the table, no matter how much I wanted them in it. It had several editing, and had me considering on more than one occasion to cut it, since it may have been too much just for one piece, but at the end decided to go against it. Had a lot of fun, and at parts had to force the characters to interact since they seemed against the idea, so I apologize if anything seems OC, it's definitely not within my wishes. Other than that, it's been one of my favorite chapters to write for the characters displayed. Enjoy~_

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, Gore, Details on torture, Violent scenes, and mentions of Death._

_Tuesday January 24th, 2012 Words: 9,001_

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><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter VIII.- The Mourner's Gathering._

_~-00:04hrs. Hidden Passage to the Basement of the Primary Military Forces Department, Omicron-Metropolis._

He had made an amazing progress that's certain. As of this moment, Timothy Drake was one hundred-percent convinced the Empire forces from Omicron-Metropolis were studying _and _experimenting on Human Specimens on this **exact** Building.

For starters, this was one of the few places _he _exclusively had trouble getting into. That fact alone was enough to warrant suspicion; they were the ones with technological advancements, even so their toys had trouble adjusting to the new level of brilliancy displayed. He really wanted to take some examples with himself for later study, and hopefully, to find an easier-_faster_ manner to hack, but he kept reminding himself this was no average operation, and so, not worthy of the risk of being caught—especially if his theory was right (and it _was_). Another thing that jammed his awareness was the notorious (for him actually; it was impossible the Enemies knew of this for they would've done something about it) effort of the Gothamites in creating an alternative disguised path that led _explicitly _to this building.

Actually, that should've been his first reason to signal this territory with a 'Code-Red 10-23' (1) grade.

White-dry halls with hues of sick yellows and oranges from the lights garnished the one-way corridor; windowless walls that had intricate code-patterns replacing them endlessly. It looked nothing like the sewers he'd just came from, and for a while, had been worried of leaving a trace just from the odor he elicited coming from those toxic waters, but found not one soul on his first minutes to telltale on his sullied persona. He was careful on where he stepped, not above going to the vents to avoid unnecessary confrontations, but the gates for the air vents were too small only children could _**try **_to press their way in, let alone a grown man—however "small" his frame was, he thought, grouching at the taunts from the family's teenager regarding his height.

He'd found an effective way to remain inconspicuous after being on the look-out every step taken for hidden cameras and blind spots that gave him the room to move as fastest as he could to avoid detection. Red Robin hadn't believed in accomplish anything with it, and was prepared to receive the countless Militaries that would surely locate him in no time given his inadequate/amateur tries to remain covert, finding himself completely perplexed when none came after his tail, and deciding not to press his luck, searched for any worker of the Department to gain a better method of keeping himself hidden to prying eyes.

It had been when he'd found that doctor roaming straight his way with those over-the-top glasses and perpetual frown he almost thought for a second Bruce had a long-lost brother somewhere. Having no place to hide himself, and taking advantage of the scientist's distraction placed on his board, Tim sprinted as fast as his feet permitted him, the man barely raising his eyes before he lost all consciousness with the bird's slam on the side of his neck. Trusting the cameras hadn't seen him (after all, wouldn't the sirens declare it?) he quickly dispatched the Doctor's Robes, and identification, taking a copy with his cowl lenses for future (probably so) references.

He grimaced slightly at the loss he'd have to endure, pushing his cowl off his face and oxygen mask with it; the cameras would identify his figure outlines, doing so, he'd had to shed his cowl to avoid attract unwanted attention. The cape fitted nicely underneath the White Coat, and he knew he was pushing it, but he had no place or the time to find a hiding spot for, his eyes ran over the credential—Patrick K. Douglas—and so, just left the male reclining on a wall, some duct tape used to keep his head attached to the wall and hands over the board he'd been looking at. It was rushed, but at least the security wouldn't go after him _immediately_ or have Dr. Douglas in any danger.

Guilty or not of his theories so far.

His cowl went underneath the sheets of papers he'd taken from the cardboard, the gloves were off too, sharing the stupid hiding place beneath the pieces of information he scanned to have a better idea of Douglas' agenda. So far, there wasn't anything significant on it, other than some messy doodles and the same codex he'd seen on all the walls surround this one-way hall. The best option was to memorize it, given the computer on his suit remained there. A couple of minutes later, after walking with haste, he ran a hand on his slightly grown hair to assemble some order to it when another colleague went past him, acting nonchalant and bored. That woman hadn't lifted her face from her own scripts, a precarious realization coming from that everyday action: this was the first time an intruder made it here. It made the alarms inside his ingenious brain go off, almost screaming at him to take his leave while he still could, before that lady that he crossed minutes ago after hastening his pace once more found the real Douglas attached to a wall and gave the order to search for him.

Of course he just ignored that common sense he'd learned from the Bat since his Robin days, levering his gaze to the only stairs a few meters from his standing point that led to another higher level in here. An elevator just at its right side. If anything it made his decision to keep on straight in his head. The elevator was the obvious choice, and using the stolen card to activate the machine was all it took to seal his fate.

Tim would need to talk with Bruce later on about the Citadel's Scientific Activities, but for that he required more than just theories roaming all over his mind—he had to take some solid proof of the Empire's moves to understand the issue behind them better, and finally put a stop to it.

Doors closing and taking special care to avoid giving the camera inside the box a good look of his profile, Red Robin leveled his blue gaze on the buttons at his right. It counted five floors, one of which he'd just vacated from, and somewhat uncertain of his actions, he pressed the floor above them, certain that the odds of finding the clues he needed would be deeper underground.

Here was to hoping he came out alive after finding them.

* * *

><p><em>~-00:28hrs. Security Room, Ninth Floor of Primary Military Forces Department, Omicron-Metropolis.<em>

They were some soldiers knocking on the door quite relentlessly, even so, her blue eyes squinted at the images, undeterred to her silent scrutinizing of the younger man parading despite the bleached locks falling in her line of view or the simultaneous voices from her lesser crew calling frantically for her attention.

It had been long since she saw the third bird of the flock—and hadn't considered he'd be the one she'd caught first of the Clan, but who did the boy think he was kidding? Was this the same kid that discovered the Bats identities back with the original duo, or the same kid who was considered the smartest of the brilliant Flock Bruce had? This man who was wearing _nothing_ but a lab coat to disguise himself from their cameras? She had watched him tape that unfortunate fella on the lowest level below—**nothing** close to covert was instilled in his actions.

Had the trauma been that crucial for him… though if that was the situation, how had the man remained hidden without killing himself for so long?

She shook her head, those were questions her old Detective self would've asked, and had to remember herself that she wasn't like them anymore, and had a job to deliver. On that note, things were falling into place; the minute their sensors spotted the intrusive Bat she'd taken care of the basics—

"_Lady Black Canary, Miss! __Please__** open **__the door! __It's an__** emergency!"**_

—and those **idiots **were getting on her nerves. She suppressed the need to kick-open the door so it'd smashed on their faces making a pretty satisfying slam on their noses, instead turned towards it, making sure to inhale a deep breath and reassess her bleached hair properly; Dinah had an image to maintain, she had to be the perfect soldier. Nothing out of order. Not. A. Thing.

"_Lady Black Canary __**please! **__**It's an emergency!"**_

Dinah controlled her desire to roll her pretty eyes, absolutely sure those guards would know anything but what qualified as an emergency and opened the door. There were three guards, all breathing heavily and a nervous wreck. For what she had no idea—nobody left knew of Red Robin's presence on the sublevels as it was ought too. Damage control was _her _responsibility, so really, there wasn't a plausible reason for this type of distress unless her orders of staying out of the five sublevels weren't followed.

"What is it? And be careful with your tone soldier," she narrowed her blues perfectly at the one covering the other two scared siluette behind him, "be aware you three are trespassing and should be guarding your posts instead of raising your tone on a superior commander."

The soldier at the center flinched visibly, making Black Canary remorseful for their fate, but it was past her hands now.

"Yes my Lady, apologies my Lady!" Dinah heard the man quip, and crossed her arms over her chest, right boot tapping expectantly. "Um, but, we—um, you see my Lady," he gulped nervous, voice high and the blonde wanted to smack him silly to hurry him up; Tim was still to be watched and taken care of, and all these goofs were doing was keeping her from her duties, "we were going to the 11th Floor to mark our new positions as per stated when we found, um, we—I mean, he—!" the man's blabber became more intolerable as it went, and was now refusing to make eye-contact with her while having trouble of keeping his frame still.

"Speak already or leave someone else do the job for you. Just don't keep wasting my time with your inexperience." The pretty bird scolded the man who was at least half a meter taller than her and trembled more at her annoyed tone.

The soldiers tensed; a silence along wrapping the space where areas their shaking-loud forms used to be, enabling a different reverberation for the woman in her Commander Uniform (2) to distinguish. Her eyebrows furrowed briefly, unaccustomed to the sound she could now identify, returning her glare once again on the grown men before moving them out of the way to find her target behind the wall of useless firepower and muscle:

A small child crying softly to the ground as both his arms were held tightly by the two behind the nervous mess who called her attention.

She turned a fierce glare to the men before signaling the little chestnut-haired boy with her right hand, furious of this infant's presence.

"Explain—**now."**

"We—um, we found him on the Eleventh floor my Lady!" One of them who had remained silent answered in a rush. "We were just sealing the doors to the Labs as instructed so we could take guard on our new positions when the sound of his crying alerted us of his presence!" Dinah raised an eyebrow, mentally taking the scenario described on the floors above the Building and taking a peak at the child who still kept crying silently with his face down to the floor. "So we went to see what the commotion was and when we opened the door he just sprang out! I mean, the little boy literally ran-out from Laboratory No. 11 and we had a tough time detaining him because he was crazy! And then Larry went to search for any Doctor but there wasn't anyone and nobody answered us and then we came here because we thought you would know what is he doing here and—!"

"Did any of you enter the Laboratory No. 11?" Black Canary asked calm, raising a palm to stop the soldier's rants, knowing what it meant if the response was affirmative.

Their sick expressions confirmed her query, and once more, she was left with a sour taste for what she would have to do in order to keep it from spreading.

"You did a good job in coming to me. Give me the child." She commanded, extending her hand to receive the sobbing boy.

"Thank you my Lady, thank you." The first one uttered incredulously while the other two handed the limp body who still kept crying softly in low tones to the open hand of the bird. "If you do not mind my Lady, we—I mean,…" the man cut himself off, clearly afraid to ask more than he should know off.

"…he's **damaged**, my Lady." Finished the last of the trio who had kept himself quiet in frightened tones. "There's something coming out from his back—he's,… he's _**leaking**_, my Lady…" Broken words finished his sentence at the same time he relented the hold on the boy clad in hospital garments, who finally lifted his face at the adults hovering around him: a terrified emotion covering one of his eyes whereas the other one appeared hollow.

It made Dinah's chest constrict with sadness and rightful anger that she couldn't let show through, so instead, she nodded at the men in armor, her palm tight around the scarred-little one, making her way back to the security room with some futile resistance from the brunette on her hold, to finish her assignment prior to more unexpected occurrences.

"_Bitte…lass mich gehen (_3_)…"_ The child exhaustedly sobbed in German (it had to be German, there was no mistake about that), the men anxious from not understanding his whimpers to ignoring the obvious marks that labeled him as an experimental subject.

"I'll take care of him, Soldier. Go to Sublevel One to stand guard on the Stairs and Elevator entrances. You three deserve a quiet evening after helping this lost boy." Canary told them, overlooking the little brunette at her right as she watched the men nod uncertainly previous to going to the place commanded and shutting the door to the security room with the kid in tow.

No doubt existed in the confines of her mind regarding the guards' obedience, still, she watched them descend to the floor mentioned and stand their ground with a calculating gaze of blue, knowing no tomorrow was in store for them at the same time she searched for Tim's position, finding the third Robin on Sublevel Three.

How peculiar.

Stealing a glance to the boy after situating and typing the commands to take care of the troublesome bird, she kneeled in front of him, moving with a gentle caress one of his brown locks from his face to inspect his eyes better; a wretched noise getting caught in her throat at his blind eyeball and multiple scars covering his young frame.

This is what they did to their children.

Knowing there wasn't anything she could offer him, she placed both her hand on his shoulders, careful of not reopening wounds that might be beneath the scrubs encompassing the infant.

"… _I'm __**so sorry…**__" _ Her voice broke in a choked whisper, embracing the boy for the cruel fate that had rested upon him bestowing him those marks that he now carried; truly repented for what they did with them, and letting a fresh trail of tears fall from her beautiful eyes, dampening the awful excuse for a garment at full force when those little arms hugged her in return.

It was all it took to break her, sobbing her heart out as rivers of tears fell from her orbs; the sounds of explosions acting the part of the background enrolled with excruciating cries being tapped by the cameras.

She was just _so tired_ of her charge…

* * *

><p><em>~-00:37hrs. Sublevel Three of Primary Military Forces Department, Omicron-Metropolis.<em>

It was impossible he hadn't found a _thing _for his research. This was the third level he inspected, with anything but results. Tim tried to think of a different set of reasons explaining the odd circumstances revolving his failure, and every one of them kept signaling the matching basis:

He was caught.

Of course that went both ways: not one soul had crossed his path—let alone give off a sign for his arrest, so really, he hadn't a clue of what was happening around—

**BOOM.**

"_Arrrggghhh—!" _Red Robin grunted painfully, the force of an explosion a meager meter from where he strolled sending him sprawling afar against the hard floor beneath him. His ears resounded grimly; sirens in red hues mad accompanied with a blaringly annoying pitch. The door of the elevator near his landing spot; a brief acknowledgement of ache making him redirected his stare to his right foot that echoed a pulsating pain over the smoke and rubbish following the explosion of said box to find his aforementioned extremity underneath the steel material.

Great, it was doubtlessly broken with the sheer intensity that travelled all the way up his leg he considered, quickly adjusting some batarangs to defend himself on this vulnerable position until he got to his feet and searched a way out. Curses couldn't help being expelled at himself for his stupidity and naivety at his position—of course the enemy would wait for him to feel confident before trying to blow him out of the way. **Literally.** To consider otherwise was a sheer testament of his lack of common sense, and a resonant shame that would follow him to his grave.

Dick wouldn't have done something like this. He would've done it better. A's it.

It was far from over, Tim had made a promise to the acrobat's memory to end the Empire, and if he had to resort to cut-off his own limb to keep a fighting chance and get out alive he would do so without hesitation. That on mind, he was ready to attack the forces that came at him, ready with batarangs on one hand as the other tried to remove the giant metal-door from his lower extremity; blazes from the metallic box unyielding against the liquid pouring from the pieces left of the ceiling.

"Gonna chop it off or what?"

Tim heard the spiteful tenor coming from the black smoke, knowing exactly what happened by then and immediately threw the delinquent forerunner of his old skin all the sharp weapons he had held in his hand. Both of his clear blues darkened not missing a beat for his other hand throwing another set of batarangs to renew his failure when the other bird in leather avoided them easily.

"I ain't got all day Restaurant Boy." Red Hood snarled behind his helmet, kicking away a large piece of concrete to get closer to the other man in the floor.

"Should've known you wouldn't stay dead for long." Tim answered haughty, sneering at the image of the older male in the floor. The screams he'd heard below him had faded away—death by the proud flames erupting from their only manufactured entrance or exit.

Jason glared back, having a rough time in keeping his boiling anger in check. _'Stupid Dick. (_4_)' _He thought resenting the acrobat, offended at the pitiful image the asshole in front of him painted still trying to free his leg with no success in the foreseeable future—which was pretty scarce to see at this point because they needed to get the hell outof here fast.

**NOW.**

"For crying out loud," The older vigilante sneered, taking out his grappling line to shoot it against the red vest the third in line for the Wayne Empire wore underneath the white coat, eliciting a surprised-throbbing response from said wuss (he agreed to get the substitute out—nothing about how he did it), and pulled, twisting the body of his replacement towards his direction—and making more grunts and girly shrieks come out of him in the process—to finally liberate the pathetic man from his imprisonment.

Small explosions corresponding to six floors above them marked his queue. The detonators having left openings for them to go up to their designated exit Dick should have ready for them now that he had blown-up the Elevator and blasted the stairs that covered the spaces below the ground.

"_Aaarrrgghhh!_... ahh,…ah—ahh,…!" Tim cried his lungs-out, gasping for air when the sudden abuse stopped and all he could stare at were his "brother's" dirty boots. He swallowed, trying to regain his semblance—

"_**Ooff!" **_

-not being granted the pleasure of a second to take it when Jason roughly pulled him up after sending his grapple to some point on the recently made gap on another level above, the explosions behind them a swirling mess of reds and oranges as the vertigo of their escape was set in motion.

Tim's mind was set on a derailed frenzy; the Empire was destroying the place—the workers, everything and how did— _'Is it really them,… or just Jason?'_ was the only constant thought popping into his head as he discarded or assembled theories ringing on and about.

"_Put on your fucking mask __**idiot!"**_ Jason growled at him, the sudden return of gravity encompassing his skin when the older dropped him dead on the floor, right next to their recently vacated hole.

He glared icy daggers at the older male, diminishing his coughing long enough to strap his cowl and adjust his mask. He shuffled the crumpled papers into the belt, not removing his grip on their tumultuous trajectory.

The story was a diverse yet parallel version of what he'd seen underground, consisting of the same sickly orange-yellowish tinges, and windowless walls with the matching encryptions on them. The notable difference was the healthier amount of lights, supplying the level a healthier—alive—façade; on that note, he could spot some sealed doors meters from their post just by the stairway and broken elevator, another remarkable distinction from downstairs.

"What's your problem?" A now-assembled Red Robin asked icily, retrieving his stand with the aid of his staff to support his weight. Funny how the alarms didn't follow their obvious route on the building.

So much for remaining inconspicuous.

"Asides from you holding up our escape? Just the usual." Red Hood worded with malice to the younger of the two, never giving the abovementioned the time of day while he took out his watch, the hologram blinking to life and showing coordinates encrypted for curious eyes that watched his every move.

"That's _Dick's_ watch you lunatic!"

Oh fuck, this shit **again?** Jason made no move to signal acknowledgment, ending his part of the deed and sending the signal to Mage, who was ought to follow as instructed and signal Dick in return.

"Get over it **Replacement**," he said coldly to the man approaching him at a snail's pace—he was _too_ _**fucking **__slow_—after covering his wrist, "and move your fuckin' ass. Seriously, could you be any fuckin' slower? _Geez,_ Bruce really won the jackpot with you," he blurted, gaining a small sense of satisfaction spread to his core at the frustration on those eyes behind the cowl _'Body language asshole, _learn it', he thought, running to the end of the hallway when there was a characteristic sound that destroyed the whole wall at the end of this long corridor, the resistant line pulling the unanticipated body with its grasp still unbroken behind him.

"Stop! Jason! The data! Stop it—I need—the data—_I said__** stop you egoistical Jackass!" **_ Red Robin shouted, cutting the cable with a batarang, ending his travel of being dragged throughout the whole story, and earning in the process the satisfaction of watching the second Robin fall on his face at the loss of his added weight with the force behind his legs.

"You little bitch!" Jason snarled furiously, getting himself. He wasted no time in taking out his gun, forgetting on getting out the wuss alive for the ultimate pleasure of killing the bitch off. Dick would forgive him—possibly.

Eventually.

Maybe.

…

'_Dammit.'_

"Look, I don't care to know how you got here right now—I'm even less interested on the **why** at this point, but I have things to settle and you're not listening. I'm staying." Red Robin said in icy tones. He was finally up and managing his steps, careful on dismissing his throbbing extremity and pounding headache; the dizziness he could handle—Jason's presence brought out the worst of him, for that he needed to get away from the older male.

That was bypassing the horrible fact that one of his brother's belongings was in the vigilante turned criminal's clutches.

"I beg to differ asshole, you're coming with me," Red Hood charged his small gun, the clock ticking. They really needed to get out, who knew how long it would take them get to their promised point, and then get the other's to help this pathetic piece of shit.

Dick wasn't stable—he couldn't ask much of him right now.

"No, I'm not. You can't make me. You want to fight me? That's fine—choose the day and I'll give you what Bruce hasn't in years, but not right now."

Sirens went off, blaring in red colors on their floor. Jason grew more infuriated and Tim, more aggravated.

"Maybe you don't care Jason, but this place holds the key to finish the mission." The younger male said, his body tensing when he catched the other's bare restraint from pulling the trigger. It didn't matter, Tim wasn't going **anywhere** without some answers.

"That's where you're wrong dipshit. You've already ruined everything, so you got two choices: a) you shut up and do as I tell you, or b) I make you shut up and do as I tell you. Right now, I ain't got the fuckin' time to entertain your stupid daydreams."

Red Robin's lenses glowed, giving the other member of their family his answer before expressing it. He marked his position taking an offensive stand, Jason straightening his own going for an offensive attack too.

"Try it." Tim said emotionlessly.

"Alright, so 'b' it is." Jason responded maliciously.

Now he had an excuse for the damaged package.

Chaos was the natural direction this encounter had. It had taken but one move (from whom was yet to be established, though if asked both birds would deny being the one responsible for it) to start the disarrayed fight that had been steaming long time between the two brothers. There was no refinement on their motions; just animalistic rage they encountered on any rebellion soul that had had everything taken away from him.

Curses, shouts and low blows with bare naked hands.

A primitive pleasure erupting on mutual sides at the triggered fight they embodied with loathsome feelings and damaged spirits.

If asked, maybe they wouldn't remember to answer, but at some point in their brawl they had ended at the end of the corridor—the destination point all along—and fell from the building still clutching and hurting one another. They had temporarily took notice of their fall, but were so deeply sunken on their rage that it mattered no more.

Death was an eventuality—

"Oooff!"

"Arghh!"

"If you're done acting like children then we can move on."

—unless you were the son of Batman, 'cause then that meant that while death was inevitable it wouldn't be by the hands of another one from the family.

"The fuck you doing here?" Red Hood grunted, disentangling his body from the other man on the safety net that saved their skins. He had to hand it to the Bat though: this thing was handy and just by its texture he could tell the weight wouldn't be a problem.

He'd had to steal one from them for sure.

Tim, on the other hand, looked at the glaring bat ashamed, blaming himself and moving from the net that stood three meters from the ground with some difficulty.

"Bruce, I—"

"-Tt- Don't waste our time Drake, your excuses are unacceptably petty, and pathetic to say the least." Night-Robin bit out, arms crossed over his grown chest as he eyed the oldest son remove himself from their impromptu salvation. This was the first time he'd seen Todd in the two months following their newly assembled partnership, and he saw him with that _idiotic Drake? _His domino mask glowered in restrained anger.

"Night-Robin," Batman growled impatiently, silencing his biological son in the act with a little grunt from said teen, "we'll discuss it in Gotham," he said curtly, dismissing the desired explanation from the third bird and approaching him. He lend his hands to support his son's weight, mindful of the injury that prevented the young man from getting out of their net.

Red Robin grunted with difficulty, aware of his increasing damage done by the explosion, the fight, and consecutively, the fall, but accepted his father's support, leaning into the strong man for support once he was down on the earth floor and evading his haunting gaze.

He had failed and in the midst involved his father in a potentially life-and-death situation.

That is if Kent was at home. And if he wasn't, he was certainly on his way over by now.

"Well, this was really fun and all, so how's about we repeat another little family reunion on another decade? Good, I'll leave you with your broken bird now," Red Hood called rapidly, running off before stopping abruptly and returning just as quickly. "I'll take this boss, we'll call it even!"

"Jason, come her—"

"_Father! One o'clock,_ _duck!"_ Night-Robin shouted, Batman already on the floor when the caution was heeded and with Red Robin's form beneath his. Red Hood had ducked himself out of the way too, being on the common route of the original Bat and missed by a centimeter the giant tone Statue that was now impaled on the wall surrounding the Citadel.

"_**BRUCE!" **_ The raging cry of a warrior directed their gazes at their current problem who stood no less than forty meters away from them.

"No…" Red Robin mouthed, feeling the body protecting his own tense in preoccupation.

"Crap," Red Hood cursed under his breath. Net said nothing about this. This changed everything—what about their plan?

Night-Robin resumed an offensive stand, positioning himself strategically between his father and secret ally viciously. He had been waiting _years _for an opportunity like this. The teen made sure to send the leather-covered vigilante a meaningful stare he was positive was understood.

They would talk. After getting rid of that venomous snake at long last.

"_**Prince." **_ Batman growled, his chilling voice sending tremors on each of his sons at the magnitude of his emotion. His cape covered his figure after adjusting his third child on a standing position behind him, taking a step towards the Exiled Queen that had a feral face of her own: teeth clenching and furrows set into a glaring match with the Dark Knight himself.

"You have no idea how** long **I've waited for you to **finally **get out of your **dog cage."** The Amazon roared, bending over to rip apart the rests of the pedestal from the statue she threw at the Bats, sending daggers at the whole group once she had the concrete piece above her figure, "**ALL **of you. _**This ends today!"**_The warrior bellowed, letting go of the impromptu projectile with more power behind his move.

"_R3 (_5_)! Deploy!"_ Batman commandeered and all four males got out of the way; the heavy pedestal stone had pushed what was left from the first object, a huge gap letting the light from the world outside come into the awful territory of the man of Steel. Knowing what to do, the bats ran into their made escapee, Batman was the first to make it to the exit, promptly throwing a couple of smoke pellets to cover their actions. He heard his old colleague growl in frustration, the lenses of his cowl watching her sturdy siluette preparing to take a run at them regardless of her impeding sight.

It mattered not, the rendezvous point wasn't far from he stood, and he'd left her a little surprise when she went through the concrete walls.

BOOM.

"_**Ahh—Bruce!" **_ The woman yelled, granting the Bat the window he needed to get close to his allies; under these moments of crisis, he knew differences were set aside on his sons, that said he hadn't a smidge of doubt the two uninjured ones had assisted the assaulted one.

The computer on his cowl alerted him of another impending attack, and he dodged out of the way from a familiar lasso the Royal Fighter had sent to catch him from her spot at the wall's entrance. He'd left her a miniature device that exploded and covered the victim in an unhealthy amount of an adhesive substance (6) that lasted a period of twenty-four minutes, decomposing afterwards, thus burning the object trapped beneath; for Wonder Woman it would only stand for half the time minimum ahead of said female breaking away free.

"Black Bat, report on affirmative duty for Mission Deployed, over." Batman growled over their microphones, waiting on his daughter's response on the other side as he almost reached his target, pellets from the boys masking his leave.

"_Black Bat over, Mission Confirmed, over and out." _The former recognized billionaire heard the soothing voice on the other end of the contraption, giving a barely distinguished nod.

"Over and out." His low tenor grunted, before cutting the line and finally reassembling with his group keeping his hiding space on the open camp intact while adjusting his lenses to get a better reading of his environment.

"Nobody was on the street—how did the civilians knew something like this might've happen?" Night-Robin breathed out, an inquiry that had been bothering his older predecessors after falling from the Military Building.

Batman glowered, "They were alerted." He turned his glare to Tim, who clenched his jaw understanding the message. "You should've known better than to act like this."

"Yes." Red Robin maintained his pose emotionless, swallowing his deserved blame for putting everyone in danger.

"Jason, you remember Tactic S (7)." Batman stated, confident in his lost ward's memory, scouting the perimeter.

Red Hood smirked behind his helmet, adjusting his reserve of ammunition.

"In-fuckin'-deed boss man!" The deserter said in joyous cynicism. "Unfortunately—for you, of course—I have things to settl—"

"Wait!" Night-Robin ordered, extending his gloved-hand towards a different point at their current six o'clock, immediately leaping towards his signaled entity in haste. His father caught his right arm, stopping him from frantically following the deviation.

"Night-Robin the order is to keep your status—" The eldest Wayne growled at the lack of composure his offspring created; there were no times for games.

"There's a _child_ in the crossfire!" He interrupted his sire, riding himself of the hold with the shock his statement brought and twisting his cape from Hood's clutch cutting said end from his cape.

Children were innocents of the war.

This one had just turned his tail and ran away from the turmoil, a sensitive action that was sure to preserve his existence if the Amazonian Wench wasn't meters away from crushing him with her blind rage for being in the middle.

"Wait!" He yelled, chasing the small infant as he kept running away from him to the far distance of dead land. His associates would have to take care of the pest—even if it burned Damian's insides at his denied revenge towards said female—but the child was his priority.

He had already failed too many to forgive himself.

"Damian!" Bruce growled out, staring darkly at the youngest vigilante fading away in the distance. "Jason, **now." **He barked, distinguishing the Queen's approaching escape, and ran to a new place to commence the tactic.

"_Fuck,"_ Red Hood cursed spiteful, obeying the command by stretching his legs with each strong leap he took, using his guns once the Amazon broke free with a feral growl of own and went right after the oldest of the working duo.

"I'm** sick **of your** toys!"**Diana screamed at the top of her lungs, using her bracelets to shield herself from the bullets the wayward son of her nemesis shot at her at the same time she covered her eyes when a particularly pellet made them water and itch.

"Then you're going to love this." Bruce's tenor announced on her right as he jabbed his hands on either sides of her neck, quickly depositing an electrified charge of 40MV, earning a clench of teeth from his former league member. However, Diana was stronger than that, raising her arms over her head to grab his own and smash him into the dry soil, ready to step over him.

It was a painful reminder of how powerful his enemy was, nonetheless, he had something she didn't.

"I will—_ahhrghh!"_ The woman shrieked midsentence, holding her injured shoulder and sending a glower towards the forgotten bird who pulled the trigger on his grapple, retracting the line and her with it.

"Arghh!"

"Forget about me Princess?" Red Hood mocked her, before sensing a familiar surround coming at him, _"Shit,"_ diving out of the way he scarcely got scot-free from the resounding screech that destroyed the camp beneath him, forgetting about his grapple that was impaled on the Amazon's right shoulder.

"What took you so long?" Wonder Woman redirected her glare at the blonde woman, losing sight of Bruce and Jason in the action, but retrieving the piercing end of the line imbedded on her flesh without a flinch.

Dinah refuse to go along with the urge to copy the other's actions, instead took another step into the arena, trying to adjust her stare on the field surrounded by smoke after her Canary Cry.

"This wasn't the only incident my Lady," the meta answered instead, keeping her stand diplomatic when in range of the other woman, "the building is no more."

"And so are those Bats once we find them." The raven-haired female said to her inferior with decision, breaking the toy that perforated her flesh, "there!" her lasso went to grab the dark vigilante, succeeding and flying ever so slightly towards the bat. She made to retrieve her Amazonian artifact, hauling the body towards her pummeling fist aiming to break his face which the Gothamite ducked from, sweeping a leg on the rope and pulling downwards, his force taking by surprise the rampant raven, sending her to his place on the ground to receive her slamming his Kevlar-packed-forearm against her windpipe. She gasped at the brute assault not having the time to think of a counterattack when Bruce was already behind her, grabbing her in a strong armlock intended to make her faint with the lack of oxygen.

Refusing to fall that easily, she took a hold of herself, crushing his biceps with all her strength and admittedly thunderstruck at the resistance the material of his gear possessed, for she would have sliced open his flesh by now and could only just so feel the material cracking underneath her fingernails. Her efforts conversely appeared victorious, the armlock gone and Bruce retracting his sharp batarangs that she dodged with her bracelets.

Dinah went after the other problem on their list, catching Jason by avoiding the array of assertive bullets that would have ended her life if she wasn't an experienced metahuman herself. The former judo instructor served a high kick to the Red anti-hero's bicep, Jason proficiently expecting the kick and trapping her foot between his arm and forearm in the juncture between both parts of his extremity, taking the change to impale his left knee on the Empire Soldier's ribcage.

The hit made it's collision, but Canary slammed her open palm on Red Hood's left cheek, the helmet left with a dent from the offensive and making the receptor stagger and loose his hold for a couple of seconds on the woman. For Dinah it was more than enough, taking a step backwards to recover her air as she let out another Canary Cry—this one noticeably smaller for she had yet to recover her air from the younger man's previous hit, but he jumped out of the way with a double leap in the air, landing approximately five meters from her and shooting her before his feet even touched the ground, at which she kept dodging, nearing him enough to regain her breath and reattempt her attacks.

At some random point the four dancing shapes got closer, both bats with their backs a meter away from the other and their respective adversaries in front of them, unbeknownst to the female's team this wasn't a coincidence on their run.

Black Canary gave out an enormous cry, the sound waves causing the dry soil to fracture as it reached its subjects.

"—ah-hah-!" Dinah felt herself choke at the dusty projectile that landed inside her mouth, exploding in a collection of powder within her oral cavity and effectively ending her treat to the Bats.

Diana's eyes widened in recognition at the object filling the sky above them, a distinctly female dressed in black and portraying a domino mask holding some type of shotgun at her only ally in these field full of enemies.

"_Subject C (8) out, aiming Subject W (9)."_ Batman pressed his ear-com, hearing Cassandra's voice under the pandemonium created seconds prior to another shot falling into Wonder Woman's bracelets (she had covered her eyes quickly) with the same substance from the battle's beginning.

That wasn't any deterrent for Black Bat, keeping her almost perfect shooting at the current menace in golden garbs when Batgirl directed the black jet near their position at an adequate altitude for both men to make their escape.

"_Get in, hurry!" _Stephanie's voice replaced his daughter's on his cowl, the Bat grabbing his oldest son's hand and sending his line at the ship's entrance where Black Bat continued her fire at their standing enemy. Fortunately Jason took the hold, sending his own bullets to the Amazon enough for his sister to assert one shot and send the woman to the floor, blind if only for a few minutes to make their escape.

Greek queen or not, she couldn't keep of both their attacks at different points for that long.

"**Get back here Bruce!"** Diana shouted, flying into the guided by noise alone, making Stephanie adjust their flying route rather drastically to prevent falling prey to the oldest woman's advances.

"Hang on! It's going to be a rough ride!" Batgirl cautioned, moving the fine machine in the skies with expertise, avoiding the hits one way or another.

Turbulence aside, the two males ascended with the line retracting back to its place, Cass pulling her father and consequently her brother unto the ship, ushering both exhausted men inside the cargo area of the jet where their previous mission's target resided.

"Where's Red Robin?" Batman grunted out, heading no attention to the turbulence. He walked past a box filled with weapons just beside Jason who had slid to the floor massaging his neck and recharging his arsenal. Black Bat shook her head one time, not removing herself from the jet's opening meters from them.

"He's still down there; the priority from your message stated the conditions to the retrieval." She stated over their microphone, refusing to part with her gas mask when the entrance was still open (as where all at all times).

"The little shit's also M.I.A.," Jason spoke angered at the action, levering himself to face the others, "you got the wrong son Bats, I suggest an exchange,"

Batman glared, his pose dangerous even to his allies. The Batwing had just stopped its abrupt movements, so at least they got Prince off their backs for now. "We're all going back to Gotham Jason," the slits of his cowl glowered in silent promise, "we still need to talk about a few things,"

"You want to talk? Fine, just name the scumbag, and I'll be there—just don't expect me to go back to that pool of _vermin_ you call _**home." **_ The younger male took a step towards his ex-mentor, getting into his personal space that, without a doubt, the Bat didn't so much as flinch.

"You guys fighting already? We need to find Tim _and _Damian, so book it up for another hour until we find them and _then _rip each other's eyes off." Stephanie's voice came from the speakers of the jet, clearly infuriated at the lack of composure she heard on the cockpit.

"I think I got one," Cass was the only one who acknowledged the blonde's input, effectively stealing the attention from the men to her lead.

"Send the coordinates and let's rescue those boys Cass," Steph chatted amicably with some arrogance on her beautiful soprano, "God knows they can't do anything without us."

* * *

><p><em>01:24hrs. <em>_Outskirts of Omicron-Metropolis. Distance unknown._

"_Damian, come here!" _Tim hissed out on his microphone, sure that idiot homunculus could hear him—had done so for the rest 25 minutes or so—while searching him in the vast amounts of the death zone. His worry had long left him, convinced both of them were nowhere near the battle taking place between both sides, and asserting himself like a liability in this occasion, he decided to look for the irresponsible teen and take him to safer grounds instead, trusting in the abilities of his General.

Jason was another story all together.

"_Damian, stop acting like a child and respond already! We need to evacuate ASAP!" _He kept hissing coldly at the teen, wishing he would at least pick up already so Tim wouldn't be walking around in circles. It was nobody's fault but his own for messing with his implanted GPS, which then got worst by Jason's violent behavior, resulting on being on the loose from and of his allies.

He kept his pace, using his staff in the place of a cane that reminded him of Alfred, not willing to give-up on anything. Red Robin had kept part of his investigation; the papers coded that would lead them to another point—

_Crawl._

—he heard a rock moving, automatically enhancing his vision and motion sensors for the approaching entity.

"—_back here!"_ Red Robin's eyes hardened, recognizing the young pitch that came along with cat-like footsteps from military boots he was acquainted, forgetting his broken foot as he limped his way towards the youngest Bat.

"_I won't hurt you!"_ The brat's voice became more audible, Tim changed his direction by twelve angles, eventually slamming against a small bulge, falling instantly over it without much grace.

"Oof!" He exhaled at the air being cut from him, the boots coming closer in the distance and feeling someone yank him away from his collision's object before he caught his breath.

"Drake you imbecile! Watch were you're going!" The demon snarled, not paying him any mind, Tim's eyes bulging slightly underneath his cowl at the small child he'd ran into.

"_Wait!" "There's a _child _in the crossfire!" _

Red Robin recalled the homunculus yelling prior to abandoning his designated spot, nearing the child who had still yet to get up from the floor, and kneeling a healthy amount of space away from Damian—who kept immobile too. Strange for someone so eager to help this kid, the oldest of the trio considered before passing a calculating look on the little one's back.

He wished he had been prepared for it, maybe then he'd have controlled the gasp escaping his lips better at the image painted.

It was a boy, a small one, perhaps of six-seven years with brown messy hair and pale skin that wasn't covered by his poor hospital garments; what made him nauseous was the protuberance on his back—just where his spine was supposed to start, right on his Axis (C1 vertebrae)—the skin was no more, instead a blackness painting his Spinal Vertebrae stood out, flesh a pulsing red eating away at the black bones coming out from his little back, the veins popped out paling to the numerous scars that could be seen from the space naked between his shoulders the garment failed to cover. The child had no shoes on, his tiny feet scrapped with the dirty soil and his hands filled with numerous scars that matched with what little could be seen from his back.

This was wrong.

This—he—he'd _never _seen something so wrong like this. It was just—

Neither Robin dared to move a muscle, afraid of damaging the youth on the ground or of making his presence tangible leaving them with those consequences.

Above them, their cavalry arrived, Black Bat keeping her stay and then diving in for both her brothers who had yet to concede their appearance. Batman held on her rope, nodding to her just in case any eventuality happened whilst Jason itched for a smoke and kept his arms crossed over his chest.

The child had yet to get up, and if they watched closely, it even appeared he wasn't breathing—

-oh god, the child wasn't breathing!

It struck Damian first, who was about to lounge after the child, when Cass came into view, stealing his perturbed stare at the maimed creature enough for the young woman to give him the line and nodding mutely at the same time she adjusted a vest for the pale bird who kept his stare on the infant facing the poisonous terrain. Damian complied wordlessly, the haunting image impaled even after strapping himself, not removing his glance once as he spoke against the wind once he and Drake were good to lift.

"Bury," and Cassandra understood, watching the frail body as she made her way and carried the boy as if he were the most precious being in her life. She pressed her grappling hook up to the Batwing, following a little below the path of his brothers into their metal sanctuary, holding her cargo with hidden repent.

Batman helped Red Robin inside, while Batgirl had left the machine on autopilot to aid Night-Robin, sending a glare at the Red Hood who kept watching them silently without the slightest intention of lifting a finger for them.

"Are you guys okay?" Steph asked preoccupied and sober, the hours and excruciating missions finally taking their toll on her when Damian removed himself from her hold loosely. "Where's Cass?" she continued when not one of the boys deemed her with an answer, watching Bruce go for an emergency kit to fix Tim's broken foot.

"Here," came the solitary voice from the closing gates, carrying a broken shape between her arms dearly. She was about to question her friend's new companion but was roughly shoved out of the way by Jason, who approached the only Daughter of Wayne fiercely, his aura of danger higher than she ever heard of.

"_What_ is _**that?"**_ The renegade Robin demanded, signaling the bulge with an accusatory finger and probably showing his teeth beneath the red helmet.

Cass didn't flinch, instead drew her domino mask on the figure she held to her chest.

"He breathes." She stated, caressing his brown locks lightly, careful of not procuring any accidental damage and robbing everyone (but Batman who was still searching for the supplies), of their attention, causing an immediate attention from both of the young men who found the youth; each and every one of the four assembled Robins circling the bat who frowned visibly, making every one hold their breaths.

If asked, the whole thing radiated a magic feel, for the boy stirred after the woman uttered those words, instantly opening his orbs and hauling up part of his face to the voice he distinguished from all the chaos wrapped around him.

Eyes locked on the white's of her mask, Cassandra took a step back, unknowingly getting off from Jason's aimed grasp at her wrist and disposing of her domino cover to have brown meet one healthy-blurry blue and one dull one, the hand that had pushed away her shield from her eyes going over the boy's tangled hair, pushing away with certainty the object hiding the child's scalp and finding the expected midnight locks that shined a corresponding blue below the wig.

She recognized that hue of blue everywhere. Years be damned and one orbed damaged on his face.

"… _Dick?" _ her trembling soft voice echoed on the tense room, only the reverberation of a box slamming against the metal floor of the jet resounded heavily, turning the four Robin's attention towards the disbelieving Bat that stared at the boy's limp figure when he was met with an electric blue and raven locks.

* * *

><p>(1) Code Red: Lockdownlimited access signaling something dangerous is within the grounds. Official U.S. Military Army= 10-23: Disturbance.

(2) She stopped wearing her uniform long time ago. I'll post a sketch of her new one when I get the chance too.

(3) German= "Please… let me go…" I think, new to this language, so if there's anyone who knows corrections are required I would thank you for them.

(4) Yeah, it's a Bro' Joke. *Snorts* I'm sorry Sam, I just couldn't help thinking about you when this came-up. *Snickers loudly.*

(5) R3= Retreat Maneuver No. III. In which all allies go towards the exit just created and reunite at 5hrs with variation of distance from enemy's point. Instructions are to be taken from General at that point.

(6) Goo. Imagine a large amount of goo that's pretty much glue.

(7) Tactic S= Tactic Snowball. It consists of attacking the enemy from different spots with an array of small flares, miniature explosives, pellets, or, in Jason's case, bullets.

(8) Subject C= Subject Black Canary.

(9) Subject W= Subject Wonder Woman.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__Yep, Dick's a child, though I assure he's not going to stay that way for much, and questions behind his reappearance will start to come from next chapter on. The romance part is not for another-at least seven or eight chapters, and I'm really exaggerating on them coming so early, so fear not of pairing young!Dick with anyone. I won't. All has an explanation, and will be seen as the story goes on. In the meantime I'll just let you guess on what's going on then. Also, I'm working on having a space where all images from references used in here are situated, and for those who had trouble picturing the Building, I'll put a link on my profile to a very—__**very **__(I cannot stress the word enough) simple design of the floors Tim, Jason, and Dick travelled. _

_Shameless advertising continues with __**"Where's The Justice?"**__ and it's on-going Prequel __**"It's Just Us"**__. I read it again a couple of days ago._

_For all those who added this to your alert list, favorite story and reviewed thank you._

_Now, to my everlasting loving Anon, (huge review response ahead) can I just say that was one of the most fantastic highlights I've ever had with this story? You picked-up every detail I wanted to give, from something so simple like Steph's bitterness that Cass took awareness off, her being ashamed to the task for Steph, to A's-ing the whole technology department in your behalf. Gotta say I'm not sure if some of them are cannon, just think of them once my fingers get into the rhythm of the chapter being written at that moment, since that is when I know what they could, should, or would like to use to keep up. That said, it's pretty overwhelming that you see it that way. I'm also glad you loved the funding issues, since we do have to keep an element of "realism" in here, and with the system broken it figures there's been more problematic with their materials. It's perfect you loved Cass. In every single detail you enjoyed and mentioned, here was another moment of her being an amazing sister to Damian, Tim, and everyone else. Well, that's a relief to know, I do wonder sometimes if I'm not overly detailing or repeating myself too much (which I'm sure I do) given english isn't my first language; I will continue trying my best to keep you with the scenery straight for your wonderful mind. Again, I'm not sure how I got the Batwing's mechanism—just figured it'd be the best option for what I needed for the girls, you make blush and grin at your compliments, thank you so much. _

_There's never too much banter between Robins. It's just the way they work having all just too strong personalities. You caught those changes well Anon, I applaud you and give you Alfred's cookies. Suspenseful huh? *Smirks* I'll see what you think of this one then. Oh, you have no idea~_

_I'm honored to share that knowledge with you, and humbled for you to think so; I do have that comic background, though I would love to have more, the way you describe the actions from the characters is accurate and takes the words off my mouth. _

_You think right. Jays gonna explain more on that on Chapter IX, so there you will get some partial answers. Good detective work._

_Heh, here you got that. Grumble, it's your right to do so. We shall grumble together too. Well, I'll respect your wishes and keep it as a surprise then. _

_They really do~ *Grins* And that makes me feel all the more warm and fuzzy inside *smirks*. I love rants, especially when they're about a common interest. More than plenty really._

_You're welcome, I'll try to keep an organized base of that info for future references. And that's all the more incredible. But I love your exclamation points and faces. *Smirks* You grinning now too? It's pretty close to me *Nods*._

_Yeah, she did, I appreciate your words dearly._

_Anne~_


	9. Detectives' Trails

_**Author's Notes: **__Heavy chapter ahead. There is one flashback, and later on, in Present Timeline it's just Dick's inner monologue as he compares one thing with another, and then adds some parts of the previous chapter from his Point Of View to fit his description of the current situation for him. Hope it's not confusing and can be read like it was meant to be read. Another monster of a chapter with almost 10,000 words; had to re-edit it more times than any of the chapters written so far, and left a satisfied sensation in the pits of my mind, so I'm really proud of it. There will also be the beginning of some explanations regarding Diana's brusque behavior, (do note in the key word _'beginning'_)_, _and her future plans. Plus Dinah's part, following with an explanation of what may have been misinterpreted on the chapter previous to this one. If there are any questions about it, I'll be more than happy to oblige whatever I can answer without ruining story arc purposes. That said, enjoy yourselves.~_

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, Gore, and mentions of death._

_Monday February 13th, 2012 Words: 9,517_

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter IX.- Detectives' Trails._

_~-01:24hrs. __Outskirts of the Fallen Wall of Omicron-Metropolis._

They were gone. She just knew it. Though it did little to quench her ramping lust for their belayed punishment the Amazonian Warrior considered as she rubbed furiously what was left of that plastic-like ammunition the girl shot at her eyesight.

On Hera's name she swears to see Bruce and his kin pay for their crimes and finally give a rest to her blood-lusting soul.

The substance was cleansed, leaving her sight perfectly able to roam through the desert planes that covered one of their Protected Citadels, but she had been right—the Bats were gone. Probably half-way to Gotham by now.

Diana glared at the darkened skies; her teeth clenched nearly painfully at her rage-spirited frustration, making her afresh all-too aware of the sins she paid-for years ago. Before her world fell apart and allies befell into enemies, friends converted into foes, and family grew to be nothing but a shattered memory.

She was becoming agitated; weary by now from all her effort to keep-up with the **Treacherous Rat** on their fight. In result, the woman dashed at a steady pace back to the Wall entrance, then descended with her struggling ally who she'd once saw as a friend and sister.

Before the blonde Meta betrayed her with the weight of her silence.

"Explain to me **when **did Bruce get into the city, and **how** on Athena's name did _him_ along with **all** of his kin _trespassed _into our most secure Citadel **without** notice?" The raven-haired woman all but demanded to the coughing blonde, who stood straight aiming to recover her standard emotionless semblance.

It only made Diana's pristine dark-eyebrow jolt in annoyance; by now a tiny group of sentinels had gathered at the busted wreckage that used to protect their citizens, and the Exiled Queen turned her head in a regal disposition; hands still on her developed hips as she barked an order to the confused men who were gapping at the irregularity on their grounds.

"Bring some water and start looking for any victims or casualties around the area! Move!"

"Yes Majesty! Right away, Majesty!" They quivered, recoiling at her sight as she turned her sapphire orbs towards the route Bruce most likely took. Narrowing her eyes in contemplation of her next move…

If she were to go to Gotham—if she were to cross _that line_ and actually set foot on the Prohibited Rotten City…

Her gaze narrowed further, acknowledging Bruce had made the initial move by attacking Omicron-Metropolis on the first place. Those were the rules they still continued to play and dance around like fools on a Greek Tragedy for the Gods above them; mark of the punishment they deserved for past offences. Nevertheless, and for all they hated each other on these rough times, both sides had an unspoken rule not one soul had even considered dwelling:

**Not** Omicron-Metropolis. And definitely **not **_**Gotham.**_

However after what had presently transpired,… Diana would be lying to herself if she didn't admit to yearning to return the favor on their enemies tenfold.

The Bats had attacked, consequently **destroying **a whole Building of one of their funding cities, and along with it, came the uncertain amount of innocent victims they took with their impertinence and rash-careless behavior.

"Here's the water Majesty, ma'am!" One tall buff soldier wearing the colors of their Military spoke with barely any tremors.

She nodded one time signaling at the still wordless woman in front of her.

"Give it to her."

That same male nodded bestowing a curtsy before he stepped closer; his head kept down enough to avoid any visual contact with either powerful Superior, and then handed Canary the liquid stored on an impeccable crystal glass.

"How many survivors has your group found so far?" The Amazon questioned at a standstill, contemplating on leaving after catching her breath and capturing the Bats before they crossed the Gates of their Dog Pound.

"We—" He started but Canary clearing her throat stopped him dead on his tracks.

"Like I said my Lady, the Building is no more." Dinah's voice came raspy from the unexpected crafty homemade-pellet their enemies had attacked her with. The petite Meta turned to the man standing earlier to her; the point to keep the operate in a leash obvious. "Go the Citadel and request all of Military Personnel to report A.S.A.P. at the fallen Building so we can start cleaning up."

"But, Lady Black Canary, ma'am—the registers with all the staff's names and information was in the Building—"

Diana saw a slight flick of annoyance cross Lance's eyes, and one of her refined eyebrows ascended in retaliation whilst the other one furrowed. So it seemed the blonde wasn't entirely cleansed of her emotions then. For Hera if that did nothing to quench the swelling hatred she had against the ex-Bird of Prey.

"Go to the Daily Planet Edifice, you will find there the switch for the Citadel's Speakers on the Top Floor." The judo instructor told her lesser patiently, bypassing the scan the older woman was doing on her and rectifying her pose into a more hostile one when the Guard did nothing to show his understanding—meaning he probably didn't. Idiot. How did Kent trust these men to watch his City she'd never know. Of course, ultimately that was her job. Like always. "_Then, _you will order to every personnel from the Military Building with or without active duty to report back. Was that clear enough for _you,_ Soldier?"

"Yes, my Lady! Will see to it, my Lady!"

Diana watched the mass of muscle shout in obedience, instantly disappearing into the rubble and city; finally leaving them alone to discuss what had actually happened—if she hadn't been in the area to question Clark about their latest quarrel, who knew what would've happened with Bruce and the others on the loose. And speaking of the raging alien, where was he?

"Now, tell me: what. Happened?"

"Around 23:54hrs the cameras on the Security Room on Level VI catched a glimpse of what appeared to be an anomaly on the grounds right by the First Floor. Two guards were sent but came empty-handed, declaring nothing was out of order. As it is a highly unlikely matter to have intruders _inside _our Military's Grounds, I came up and arrived at 00:20hrs, checking the Facility's First Floors without anything out of place. Went to the Security Room, ordering a new Assembly of Military to stand their ground in case something happened, and got into the Sixth Floor to revise the tape that upon better inspection, had one sliver of dark fabric showing for one second before disappearing into a corner."

"**Bruce**." Diana growled, clenching her fists and replacing them over her chest. That bastard was the only one who could fade into the shadows as if he was one with them.

Canary nodded, keeping herself on check and attentive of any assault the older woman might take on her. It certainly wouldn't be the foremost time.

"Immediately so I ordered an evacuation of the area surrounding the Base." The younger female continued, and felt some stress leave her tense body when Diana visibly showed approval of her described action by a curt nod.

"That's why there wasn't any innocent people on the streets. Good." Diana spoke, replaying the events told inside her mind for any window of information that could help them discover Bruce's motives.

"Yes, after all, all personnel work only to guard our cities and fight against the rebels—they're trained for any scenario to protect their people." Dinah talked, pleased with the Amazon's response to her details. "It took an overall amount of five minutes to organize all the men to their respective spots, and when that was done I tried to communicate without success with Lord Superman and yourself my Lady. The lines were dead and the frequencies hacked."

"That explains why he needed all his Robins." The raven mused, angry at their disadvantage despite all their benefits of having any type of technology at their disposal. "It still confuses me how did all of them managed to enter the place." Prince wondered out loud, replaying the steps; while the reason was somewhat dubious, it did made sense Bruce wanted to attack where their forces dwelled, given that would insure a significant drop on their defenses.

"Covert missions _are _their specialty." Canary reminded her. Keeping her report. "With that I went to investigate, needing no more proof of who I was looking for. The elevators were cut, and the system shut most of the doors on the levels, leaving only the stairs. Around 00:35hrs the first explosion went off on Level I." She shook her head, dirty yellow locks waving around. "The evacuation was set to all the remaining recruits inside the Building, but it was chaos: explosions after explosions came right next to the first one, the ladders—the only escape route left with the elevator destroyed—were ablaze, and at 00:40hrs the Building fell to the ground. We don't know how or when did Bruce and his kids left," Dinah crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze unyielding and disheveled appearance a note to the Amazon with higher rank, "you came later and I joined the battlefield with you. That's all."

"You'll file this and make a report. For now, I think it's safe to say whatever Bruce was after it has our attention and he will no longer hide from the consequences." Wonder Woman decided, resting her sight on the path that led to the Prohibited City. "Where is Superman?"

The smaller woman shook her head once, taking-in the same visual path as her Superior, "His specific whereabouts are unknown. The reports had stated he's expected in a meeting with our Lord at 10:00hrs. and left before sunset." Then she took a deep breath through her nostrils, seeing the squint of the narrowed eyes on the eldest female on their band. "It's my duty to remind you of the dangers of taking the path you're considering," Canary said, no effect from the glare she received, "if things were that easy the City would have burned more than half-a-decade ago. And you don't have your strength to back you up—"

"Are you insinuating I'm _weak?"_ Wonder Woman hissed, not content with the tone she was getting from the typically obedient lap-dog of Superman.

"I'm watching over _you,_ Diana."The meta stated keeping her eyes locked on another set of blues that widened at her dismissal of titles, "If you're thinking of going after them you need to remember **exactly** why they are still alive and breathing. We can't have the element of surprise with their defenses, we have no idea how much the city has changed—I'm not even sure of how it is inside anymore, and if Batman knows anything—which both you and I know he _does_—it's his City. You can't expect to go there and actually _gain_ something out of it." Dinah chanted with one eyebrow raised. She was taking her chances with Diana here (double chances really) treating the Queen nothing like her heading stated; just good ol' Diana Prince, having a chat with same ol' Dinah Lance. But regardless of the brunette hating her guts with everything that had happened between them, Dinah continued to care for their past memories together enough to remind the older Warrior, that having nothing left didn't make it worth it to throw everything over the border just because of a glimpse of rage re-opened.

Diana stared at the bleached blonde, unsure of the path she should take. Asides from the unsettling sight of Canary talking to her on her same level exactly as they used to back in the days where nothing in this horrible world blemished their lives, she had sacrificed one too many gifts with the Gods just to stand where she was. Dinah was right on her qualm, for she herself knew how erratic her behaviour could get from time to time; the answers to her emotional distress too potent by her desire to set things straight and bring a small smidgen on Justice back in this Godforsaken World.

The wound on her pride ached. Bitterness for who was once her friend reminiscent; a constant signal to heed warning to the devious antics from the younger female who stood tall watching a cold-blooded scene unroll with no visible recoil. And her logic told her to listen to reason and do what she had planned before confronting the unpredicted Gothamites, here at Omicron-Metropolis.

At the end, Diana had an ultimate purpose: saving any who still needed protection.

Something she couldn't do if she was dead.

"Do your report and inform me when you know anything about Superman." She finally called, moving away from the watchful eyes of her college at best. "Send the men's families our regrets and assure them we will take care of them. The least we owe their families is that much. Then you'll give me the numbers." Her voice faded away as she took the skies at a gentle rate, her reasons for appearing now gone, and her resolve troubled with her constant doubts concerning her place in this New Era for Humanity.

By Hera,… was this really what Donna would've done in her place if their roles were reversed?

…would any fellow sister approve of her methods…?

"Damn you, Bruce."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~-Flashback: Year 2011. Outside of Wayne Manor, Gotham City-~<strong>_

"_Clark, are you sure there isn't another way? For Hera's name, Bruce is our _friend!"_ She cried in distress, praying to all Gods above to hear her prayers and make some reason enter the exceptionally stubborn superhero. This was all so wrong. _So wrong. _"We _know _he wouldn't do something like that!" And Diana was so sure of that—one hundred percent convinced the billionaire didn't intend any harm to anyone. Positive he had a reason behind his secrecy that led to this array of battle after battle against an Enemy nobody knew of, and certain that he was a good man who had been doing his best to handle this onslaught of hostile situations in more ways than all of them combined were. _

_Clark, however, appeared to think differently, having instigated the masses to become unsympathetic with the crew of detectives out of nowhere—_

_Okay, the Princess swallowed a dry lump in recollection; Karen (_1_) was more than enough of a reason to explain their Teammate's livid behavior. But this was a war, and casualties came at a par with their Job. It wasn't like Bruce came without suffering his own loses—Helena Bertinelli (_2_) had been proof of that. And they had done _so much_ to be in this place right now, finally stopping Leviathan enough to gather their forces for the _last push_._

_The older male in blue and red was just too angry right now to see how much damage his actions did. Enough evidence was the Detectives' identities revealed to every soul that kept breathing or the young blonde in a batsuit being unjustly incarcerated and unmasked towards each single pair of eyes on this damaged Earth. They had _no right_ to quell about what the Dark Knight and his family guarded more zealously than any member of the Justice League did combined; just the same way they had no right to capture and treat one of their own like low-life criminals._

_She just needed to convince the head of their Trinity to actually look back at his actions. She just needed to find Bruce and apologize, and then liberate the girl from her prison—_

"We don't know him anymore Diana!" _The reporter stopped her brisk thoughts with his enraged tenor. Her eyebrows lowered in concern at the unnatural expression of rabid ire plastered on the man before her eyes, who usually had a gentle and silly handsome smile plastered on his content expression. _"You think I **like** this? That I didn't want to believe my **best-friend** could fall to these levels? You think I didn't **want** to **believe that?"**

_The Crowned Princess stood agape at the emotion displayed, if only for a second before stepping in, recognizing this as her chance to fix things._

"_Then why do you Clark? You're saying so yourself, he's your _best-friend, _and you know he wouldn't be capable of doing things for the pleasure of proving to be above the law—for Hera, _that's a given!"_ She took another step closer, risking the delicacy of the situation by placing one strong hand over the Man of Steel's big shoulder. "We need to stop this madness; people rely on us to protect them, and we can't do that divided like this and turning against each other—Clark: we _**have** _to let that girl go,…" Her whole body stood prepared for the small push that remained from leaving her statement complete, not missing the tense body trembling in contained anger at her reasonable words, "…before _they (3) _try and succeed to do so,… and change _**everything**_ we ever meant to one another…" Diana whispered earnestly._

_And it was _so true_ it scared her to think of it. _

_Bruce was undoubtedly planning the rescue of the current Batgirl, and knowing him and his family so well like she did, it was only a matter of _when, _before Stephanie got her justified freedom back, and then nothing would ever get back to what little they could still salvage if they just let the girl go by their own._

_Batman never forgives and forgets. And Diana didn't want to lose her best-friend—_

… _she didn't want to lose _**him**, _when _so much_ was still left to write about them. When she could still find a way to re-open what could be between her and the Dark Knight…_

_Superman grabbed her hand gently, an action seemingly not-plausible with their positions, but she smiled at him; real hope surfacing and heart unclenching from the ache that came from the hurt they imparted the Dark Vigilante._

"_I'm sorry Diana," Clark spoke with his familiar warm tone, watching her with a sad expression and squeezing her hand in the middle of his sentence. _

_It worried her for some strange reason._

_Shouldn't she be happy instead?_

_Wonder Woman still smiled one of her distinctive grins as best as she could. _

"_Its fine Clark, it's not all lost; you'd be amazed to see Bruce is actually prett—"_

"_No," He interrupted her, and the raven woman had to lift up an eyebrow at that, "you don't understand," he continued; something dreadful setting on the Warrior's stomach for no logical reason, "I didn't wanted to tell you this now—not with all of this, and knowing how much Bruce means to you, but there's no choice."_

"… _what on the Gods' names are you talking about?" She spoke insecure, a defensive tone developing on her pitch when those navy eyes watched her own with barely a trace of emotion._

_She would never forget that cold gaze in the years to come, and in doing so, never fail to remember that dreadful numbness that settled inside her body and grew at an alarming rate with only three words that would end-up destroying her life and everything she was at once: _piece _by _piece_…_

_The pinnacle to their—_**her**_ fall…_

"_Donna (_4_) is missing."_

* * *

><p><em>~Present Timeline. 01:26hrs. <em>_Outskirts of the Fallen Wall of Omicron-Metropolis._

There was no escaping the strenuous sigh coming out of her lips after her confrontation with Diana. Dinah had to take some time to breathe deeply that toxic air that had sentenced her to a life filled with misery. For some moments she had doubted the Amazon's ability to listen to reason, and feared the worst: meaning a confrontation.

Meaning having to respond to Clark when she whooped the Queen's ass in a silver plate for kicking the Lord's only "real" friend left in this dry place.

Fortunately the raven woman had believed her false report, and now she could manage all the damage control and really see how much of a dent Tim and the others had caused to the place. The blonde grumbled lightly, massaging her throat at the slight residual ache that annoying pellet provided to her vocal chords.

Bruce was getting trickier.

What was worse on that simple truth was how much she felt relieved on the fact. Sure, she wanted them out of their way, but couldn't really cut ties that easily with someone that had had a pivotal meaning in her life. Plus, she always got a kick out of everything the oldest Bat brought to the field.

One had to imagine the amount of trouble they went through to get the textile needed for their toys.

For now, the priority went hand in hand with making sure no telltale bodies came floating by, raising questions. It had been a shame on her honor as a former superhero condemning those three guards to their deaths when she blew up those floors of the secret basements. Unfortunately, they had entered forbidden grounds, and found even more forbidden facts about the real purpose of their Military Grounds, leaving her no other choice but to eliminate anything that could lead whomever to what was being done to those children.

… she swallowed before spitting full of spite at the secrets she had to carry around.

Good thing Wonder Woman had catched sight of the problematic Gothamites before she was done sending the Building to the ground with all the proof incriminating them with it. Clark would've killed her—

Her eyes hardened; long ago she had come to the hideous conclusion that tied her as accountable for those horrendous crimes, and had accepted that fate that would haunt her till the end of her days. But Lian…

Clark would've killed her if she didn't…

He would kill her sweet gorgeous Lian if she didn't perform adequately.

That in mind, she wiped her hated uniform, adjusting her hair and heading to their grounds to administrate the "search" for any survivor—which there wasn't. After that, she would have to recapitulate the actual story with Clark and deal with his child-like pompous attitude until the irate alien was calm after burying all that she had burned previously of that edifice.

She hated herself, but she would carry that hate:

As long as Lian and Ollie got out scot free.

* * *

><p><em>~01:25hrs. Inside the Batwing. Outskirts of deserted territory. Distance from Gotham City down by 13km.<em>

Along his travels back when he was a little kid that flew without restraint alongside his parents, Dick had learned one-too many things on each city they performed.

It always had been the tiny things that catched his attention. Those twitches and gestures that nobody took care to even notice that held his child-like curiosity generating a spark interest in the attentive and restless child. Day-to-day things he picked from the crowd that welcomed them on their small world that was his Circus; a tense jaw backed with rigid shoulders whenever he pulled an "impromptu" move on his and his parents' acts; the genuine twinkle on kids his age when they watched him move from trapeze to trapeze, making him smile at the pinpointed emotion he could read from those eyes, and crackle in unrestrained joy whenever the kid's parents made an unconscious grab—minimal as it was sometimes—on their amazed pumped children as he toyed around the tightrope, contorted his body merrily or played the part of the volunteer when nobody raised their hand on the knife throwing act.

He could understand the children's part on the equation. Dick himself was an enthusiastic boy filled with energy and an unquenchable desire to fill his need for adrenaline—for performing without a net, and with as many risks as possible, getting something much more potent than any sugar-high could offer him. So how couldn't he know what those glints meant—those open mouths and fisted hands clutched to their chests? Those kids weren't as lucky as he was, and for some time he felt it unfair for them whenever their parents refused to let them get near him for autographs, or tips on how to learn acrobatics or walking on a rope—because it simply wasn't fair. Just because the adults were frightened and their children weren't didn't meant they could take away that wonderful feeling from them that he got whenever he was in the spotlight and erupted laughs and smiles everywhere.

That is, until he saw it in his parents too.

John and Mary Grayson had done the unthinkable when that one night, Jeff—the fire breather—accepted him as a volunteer, (something far from being a novelty) and sprayed him a full-on dose of funny-smelling (5) lamp-oil all over his head. Coughing and slamming a closed-hand on his chest instants before he saw the clench of his mother's jaw, and the much more obvious fist of his father slamming against the face of poor Uncle Jeff in anger.

The show had went on, Mr. Haly diverged the tense situation with the rest of the crew—clowns (Uncle Cecile and Uncle Antoine)—added to prompt Ianthe (his number two favorite Aunt), Fadhila (his Teacher of the year), and Valeria (his favorite _favorite_ Aunt of the whole world) the other fire breathers, to play with the situation faking bad aimed Dragon's Breath, or fake comically-incomplete attempts at breathing fire, and all was forgotten when both his parents got on the trapeze and went on like usual; pretending nothing had happened (6).

Only it had, and now Dick couldn't stop noticing all those bad contractions on his mom and dad.

Naturally, when the show had finished and all the circus folk helped to put things away for the night, the young gypsy trapped his parents in the trailer, ambushing them on their usual dinner that had been pushed for two hours when none of his parents appeared, at the sad epiphany he'd experienced that day.

It was that night, when Mary held his much younger face, and John towered over his diminutive frame that he came to the real epiphany his parents were trying to make him understand.

Jeff had been drunk; that, of course, wasn't actually the important part of the revelation. He'd always known of the bottles his goofy Uncle stored on the elephant's full-bags whenever the acrobat decided to sneak out of his trailer and stayed late at night dreaming on top of Zitka, or the stash the adult hid on some trailers' wheels that Dick noticed whenever he played hide-n-seek with the strong man after pulling some boyish prank.

It was the fact that Jeff did not only almost blazed him head-on for being drunk—but that he could have killed him with the way alcohol worked with the flash point, and nobody would even know it (Jeff, Valeria, Fadhila and Ianthe always used Lamp-oil to keep it safe).

The man was a hazard for himself and others, and was let go that night with John and Mary's insistence, however that was when he truly got it:

Fear for not being brave to attempt his stunts like the other children wanted wasn't what kept the parents reacting the way they did whenever he offered himself to or stepped into the light.

It was concern for their safety—not jealousy. Not unfairness.

Later on, when his parents were killed, he became more intimate with that reaction—with that sentiment. Never expecting to prove it upon himself. Then came Bruce, his life changing into something that he felt no regret nor wanted to change for anything and the lessons continued; adding to his knowledge further more about human psychology, corporal language, lying, cultures adaptation, forensics, all the languages he knew the basics of from his travels, etc. that would help him on their task and future adventures.

Whilst Bruce was far from earning the prize for the most warm fatherly figure of the year, Richard knew the Bat cared for him as if he were his own son, thus, was quick to catch any sign the billionaire could let slip away that mimicked that same pride—that love, and dare he say it 'concern' he'd grown to cherish—that he saw on his parents.

Sometimes it was harder than he could think of. Other times the circus boy delved if it existed at all; the Gothamite was a Master Detective and a Master of Disguise. To be fair, it turned him and every single member of his bat-crazy (and fantastic) family into one just the same (well, somewhat the same—that was a good thing too). And considering those circumstances, the gypsy turned-Gothamite-by-heart, knew not one member of his family was easily open to inspection.

It did nothing to diminish that craving for approval. For love. For pride, and concern.

Now, in light of his particular case, on this day, the Original Boy Wonder had carefully weighted a variety of different scenarios resulting in an extensive amount of possible outcomes regarding his reappearance with the rest of his family. In almost every one, there was that yearning taste of warmth embraces and shocked stances regarding his—mildly put—'unexpected' comeback. It was a given.

That said, while his head pounded vindictively, he was stubbornly refusing to fall against his throbbing limbs and maintain his consciousness a float to see them.

Eventually, of course.

He'd heard more than enough of Jason and Mage's "secret" conferences in the two months he and his brother had been living incognito back in Mexico.

Much had changed in the years that followed the last time he took that laborious breath on that mockery stage (7), and the acrobat knew virtually _nothing_ of it due to his humiliating lamenting conditions.

Adding to that was the second bird's everything but unreserved willingness to discuss historical events, strategies to be taken, enemy's data, or the last time Damian reached someone else's chest! Reserved wasn't strong enough of a word to describe the Jason's silence with any topic—particularly their family—that didn't revolve around how Dick felt each day he woke, how much his wounds hurt or discomforted him, or asking just about anything on the subject of the acrobat's averse disposition of his time before he was found—what the gypsy dreamt.

Anything.

Strangely, his reluctance to speak made no difference on the Red Vigilante's outlook, nor deteriorated his younger brother's efforts to keep asking whenever the chance popped-up. Jason's behavior was a whole other matter since they both had last seen each one another, but the other adult had had a point in reassessing their options, making Dick agree with recognized ambivalence his brother's plan to help him heal.

A branch of his spirit had delighted on witnessing the rebellious Robin's heartily intentions towards his wellbeing; something that kept the possibility of returning to his home back in Gotham with Jason in tow: trusting that continuous disposition the second bird sported to hold them together and possibly give them a chance as a family.

No such luck.

Dick had deduced time was all he needed, but then his health had gotten worse—his well-being deteriorated, and shortly afterwards Mage came over, spluttering his younger brother's—how he missed Timbo—presence at the center of danger; bickering all the way with the other "younger" brother of his and insulting in the midst of it, his smallest baby brothers in the same sentence.

The Golden Boy knew there was no point in keeping-up with the fantasy of reuniting the wayward child of Wayne with the other ones in a "pacific" manner, also getting caught in the revelation of how easily the older bird discarded his successor's (he hated how Jason referred to Tim as "Replacement") life in a blink, leaving Dick with no further choice than taking the lead.

"_Relax, nobody will see me." He said grinning to his taller brother, "I get in, plant the bombs, distract Canary, and leave after you get Timmy out. I got this."_

Jason had kept skeptical the whole way, and despite that stance Dick had done like stated—merging in the city, planting the exit to break small orifices on the levels when he reached the 11th Floor's window for his siblings, _and _creating a distraction as a bait for the troops—again, to give Timbo and Jays the space to escape, 'cause he knew some aggression was expected when those two met—and had gotten out.

It was just outside his plan to fall ill. To have seen Diana, and consequently reminisce about Donna for a flash.

He had ran. Catching-up with their arrangement—trusting both men had escaped this new place where it used to be a Capital drowned in optimism and high values, but found himself thwarted when aiming for his destination point, the stabs assaulting his body came back ferociously. Then became undone at a familiar yet unknown sound yelling single a command at his direction.

"_Wait!"_

Dick's actions were automatic as he turned tail and sprinted away from the only person he knew would yell a command bleeding with apprehension while at the same time wouldn't recognize the voice (the other one was Batman).

_Damian._

Suddenly ashamed, he had kept running. The pulsing of his stabs emanated more demanding with each step taken. The raven haired acrobat had told Jason it wasn't time—and he meant it; he was sure of it now with his level of agitation.

His ragged breath product of the toxics on the ambiance became problematic, but the circus carnie had been sure by then he'd lost sight of his old partner—just about to fall when he'd heard **him.**

"_Damian, come here! Damian, stop acting like a child and respond already! We need to evacuate ASAP!"_

Tim. Timmy. _Timbo._ His incredibly smart-lovely little brother who accepted his hugs, and love and every word and whon he shared a connection different than he did with his other siblings (not that he hadn't a special relationship with each and every one of them of its own). By then he'd already been consumed with the lethargic that followed his distressed psyche and succumbed to falling when he slammed against a warmth body he recognized all too well.

There hadn't been any time to call Mage for aid.

It was until he felt an overwhelming kindness overcome the numbness of his skin in a woozy recollection leading his baby sister, that he awoke. And had just _barely_ a second ago reasserted his instinct that screamed it was Cass when he swallowed the burn of his vertigo, and met those kind brown eyes that widened significantly as they clashed with his own; the tired-looking young woman removing his disguise and catching his name.

It was hard not to smile at the sweet sound of her tenderly voice.

But a resonance of metal against metal robbed his exhausted attention, reuniting his blue against the cobalt's hidden underneath the whites of his father.

Dick had learned many things when growing-up, and could remember every time he wished to see any clue signaling care, love, _concern _like the one he saw that time with Jeff on his parents' eyes, face, body…

But he'd _never _dreamed of fulfilling that need in a level of this magnitude.

He'd never became more aware of watching those same expressions from John and Mary that were completely _**nude **_to his scrutinizing on the people he'd grown to call family—on the people who were **trained **to never leave themselves open for inspection—only speculation.

Worn-out, he tilted his head more to the left—still on denial at the emotion plastered on his Father, his siblings' profiles—aiming for a better look with his good eye on his right side at the man dressed in a Bat costume; resting all his weight on the trusted arms of his lone sister.

This was all just so surreal. Suddenly becoming aware of every twitch and rigid muscle presented in all the adult figures poring over him—hesitant on the next step to take.

A cough, once more showing an unnatural flinch on all six grown-ups before Dick coughed again, this time more pronounced that quickly became a brief eruption of cracked laughter.

After all these years. After many things—those desires he'd had of seeing them again, they were finally here and nobody could take it away from him. Not this moment in time.

Made him breath in relief. Finally breath at least for a little bit.

"Hi, Dad." Dick managed the courage to muster, sober from the release he expelled by those short laughs and succumbing to his need that came haunting him on those final moments, when he only wished to say good-bye to his father and apologize for not completing the mission before being shot to his death.

Bruce had needed no more instant—merely the rustle of his cape as proof sooner than he was taking Dick from the arms of his sister into a strong capture of his own. The grown Bat shook once, twice, with no particular order in between his trembles; the gypsy well aware of those little meanings and sighing in jubilant content at the extent of relieve the Bat created on him as he was enveloped in the folds of his cape—safe from anything and everything at once.

…he'd forgotten how it felt like to be hugged by his father; of the safety he got from being hidden in the insides of his cape.

Dick only wished he could hug the billionaire back. His limbs had gone numb and unresponsive—all feeling except for the warmness covering his cold skin gone.

"_Dick…" _ Bruce whispered with barely a sound, cowl gone (when?) and nose brushing his dirty hair, tickling his left ear, and dispersing slowly a perpetual feeling of loneliness that was buried deep in his heart at the sound of his voice.

Too bad he was getting tired already—he wanted to hear more of him, of his baby brothers and sister; of Stephanie and Alfred when they got back…

"**Shit!** _**Move!**_ He's going into a comatose state!" Jason yelled, and Dick had the urge to roll his eyes at the worried tones Jays mustered; the man exaggerated too much over him. He only needed a minute to regain his balance, nothing more.

"_What?" _ Stephanie shrieked, making Dick's eyebrows jerk in apprehensiveness at the blonde's unusual somber filled voice.

"I have the table ready!"

Cass: oh how much he had missed her. The girl had surely done an amazing job keeping the peace within their little circle, he was sure. He really needed to thank her. And hug her again, he was sure the girl needed a hug but had been too worried over everyone else to take her needs into account.

"_**Dick! **__**Hang-on!"**_

Timmy, he really wanted to give the kid something to chill, correctly assuming the man was probably more alienated than he needed to be. He wanted to smile, but didn't, for the heat replacing the frostiness of his crust was removed and replaced by another frigid surface underneath a blanket.

"_Don't you dare die Dick! I __**won't**__ forgive you, you egoistical __**show off!**__ I won't forgive you __**again**__ for __**leaving me!"**_

Damian sounded so strange—all grown-up, and a lot better at hiding some emotions on his tone, but he never intended to leave the kid alone. It just happened, and he didn't want to repeat that mistake again.

"Hold on son," Bruce whispered, focused on searching for something and it made his smile tug again at the corner of his lips.

"**Move**—_I'll _do it!" The second Robin yelled right on his face, those words the only warning against the somewhat-expected needle puncturing the space at the left side of his neck.

The effect was immediate. Eyes bursting open at the substance permeating his blood stream once it had been in contact with a main artery that connected itself directly to his heart. Six figures overlooking his chubby infantile face (8) when he blinked and turned his head favoring his right side to render all a closer **more** vivid recollection of his most cherished people on the planet.

Plus Alfie.

At their stressed expressions he managed a quick quirk of his lips—the confident devious grin they all missed filling the void and staring back at them in all its Golden, if not at least a little agitated glory.

"… how you guys been doing without me?" The younger acrobat chirped enthusiastic at the drug doing its job on his system alleviating his pain and restoring his blood cells. "I think I recall someone here saying something about me being an "egotistical showoff"?" Dick continued teasingly; a boyish rambunctious laugh coming out his teeth at the blush appearing on Damian's cheeks and getting himself upright now done with his inspection. He nodded at the abashed bird, a delighted smile replacing the cocky smirk, "I like the new get-up kid," he told his baby-est brother earnestly, taking pleasure in the flustered disturbance the not-so-little-ex-assassin showed, who obviously wasn't knowing what to do about this odd twist (nobody seem to know what to do), "suits you nicely." The carnie finished, giving the teenager a million-watt smile and reaching to his right where the bird kept frozen on his spot to ruffle that spiky hair with little success; Dick was too small to try and do while still sitting on the improvised "table". What was exactly on this box by the way? (9)

"Dick… what—how…?" Tim's voice cut his attention, the first one really addressing the elephant in the room (10), thus making him turn his whole head to inspect his brother as the grown man talked with no particular order; his smile went nowhere else. Instead, the gypsy threw his legs off the boxes, leaving them hanging over the edge and moving them back and forth; portraying the age he physically showed fully, and making the third Robin take a step closer to him, something the acrobat encouraged by stealing a quick glance of gratitude at Cass that had moved to his right when she abstained Damian from interfering with his and Tim's reunion.

"… _I __**missed**__ you…" _Red Robin said almost noiselessly, clenching his fists in repressed emotion and removing his oxygen mask (he did noted how all of them had one) but not his cowl. It made Dick's smile stretch in esteem, knowing Tim was trying to put-on a front to be strong for his sake.

That had been another thing both him and Jason were worried about, even when he himself refused to accept it:

How would their own react at his appearance.

At his scars…nevermind he'd never cared much for them or what others would thin—but his back was different.

Grotesque.

_He_ was different.

"I missed you too Timbo," he said instead, going for what he felt instead of what had him insecure, and made a grab for the male's cowl; Tim hadn't grown like Damian, so it was just easier to reach for the material covering his face, smiling enthusiastically at seeing his brother's face and tear-filled icy orbs watching his own, succumbing prey to letting the tears fall freely on that grown face before being engulfed in yet another hug by that third boy who wore his old skin.

Dick swallowed a grunt, tensing when Tim wrapped his arms over his youngish shoulders at the sensation of his scrub rubbing on his spine with the weight of the other bird's limbs—particularly the gauntlets.

An action not unseen by the tallest bird.

"Step away from him dipshit! Can't you see he's hurt!" The second Robin growled, being restrained by the Bat standing close to him and receiving full force an elbow on his gut—curtsey of Steph who had shed the cowl of her own too.

"_Shut up!_ Can't you stop being a **jerk** for **one minute?"** She growled, ignoring the murderous look the second predecessor of her earlier surname sent at her, and smiling with no shame of her tears at the acrobat who tried to reassure Tim he was okay. "I can't say how much I been missing you Dick! And how _happy_ I am to have you back!" She exclaimed not caring how her soprano cracked highly, giggling in relief and wiping her tears when the acrobat turned his head after nodding at Tim and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it tightly.

"It's good to see you too Steph, I missed you too," He roamed his vision to all the figures standing, grin never wavering, "_All, _of you."

"Dick—Grayson," He heard the teenager recollect himself, stepping in the space between him and Stephanie, at which the blonde shrugged off and kept removing the waterfalls cascading beneath her eyes with a bright laugh nobody had heard from her despite the circumstances. It lifted a weight from his heavy chest—noting how the others weren't more concerned with his facade than just he being there.

"Really Damian? We're back to surnames again? I thought I might get some points by reappearing." He joked, returning his one watchful eye to his father at every designated interval to watch the engines on the Bat's head work in contemplation.

Bruce hadn't said a thing after he called him son.

Was he planning on testing him already?

"-Tt- Nonsense, if else, it should make you happy I'm not degrading your post for abandoning me." The teenager scoffed, and Dick sighed content at how some things never changed, "Though," Damian bit out, his profile solemn before swallowing with effort and taking one step to carefully wrap his arms in a similar yet more cautious way than Tim had done. Dick couldn't help tightening his hold on the now teenager. He was going to make it up for his baby brother. There was a cough, and Damian removed himself from the embrace, and though Dick was inclined to encourage more contact with all of them, he knew they would need some time to recollect themselves and actually process this sudden situation.

Some of them would go to him when the occasion promised a quiet alone time, and some he would have to go to. But he couldn't wait to do so back home.

One electric blue came in contact with that first semblance of familiarity found in kind brown orbs, and Cass smiled prettily at him; the girl looked so tired it made the first Robin's stomach twist in guilt. His sister had taken it upon herself to do his job.

And nothing he could ever do to repay her would be enough. Single minded, he raised one infantile hand, happy when the Mona Lisa smile of the Daughter of the Bat became ten times brighter but not necessarily bigger, and copied his action. Both of them intertwining their fingers in a silent understanding.

_Five fingers._

"_Arrival to Gotham in precisely five minutes. Designate entrance." _The speakers on the Batwing resonated out-loud, filling the blanks and erupting an aggressive stance from the rarely stoic Red Vigilante who had yet to done his helmet.

"Stephanie, go and use Entrance 05, then alert Alfred we're on our way and in need for three medical tables." Bruce said after noticing Jason's tense muscles turn hostile when Gotham was mentioned.

His glare glowed through the azure crystals that decorated his eyes; naked of his frontage as they reached their destination while he kept examining his boy. He was no fool and his wayward son knew more of this than he wanted to let on; an action unacceptable by the Bat, but it had been a long restless day, with the extensive mission he'd delivered the girls, the strenuous path his third son followed—injuries added to that—that resentful rage occupying his insides at the battle against two of his best ex-coworkers, his sons' almost killing themselves, and lastly but not in the least bit less important:

Finding his lost Bird.

Broken.

While questions roamed inside his brain, over the years he learned to be all the more patient and re-evaluate whenever he was alone and brooding: every moment he had shared with his first-born, and all the different things he could've done to ensure the brilliant Prodigy how much he meant to the man behind the Bat symbol. Almost all of his nights pondering as he worked harder, planned better, gathered more tolerance and patience that he would require to defeat their enemies.

He could wait until Dick told him why he portrayed the same physique of when they both first met and the exceptional boy changed his life for the better. Or the explanation that boiled his blood at the small amount of what he could see of his son's back concealed underneath those suspicious garments.

… or why was his boy left without sight on his left eyeball—a prominent and disgusting eruption of red decorating the whites of the orb with white and rosy scars painting the skin surrounding the organ.

A _'new'_ mark attempting to break his semblance that distorted his son's body and its meaning. The sign of bullet that had gone across the side of his neck right on his Internal Jugular long back and now stood as a perpetual reminder of that critical event.

Bruce would definitely be getting his answers; for now, three of his children were in need of medical aid, and Gotham was near. They would have to wait until they got back to the Cave.

"Stop this shit B. Me and Dick are gettin' outta here." Red Hood called, pointing a gun at the retreating Stephanie and detaining all Nightly Detectives on the ship.

Dick rolled his eyes, about to interfere before he was beaten to it.

"You're _not_ taking Dick with you _Todd."_ Damian growled composed—a true sight to behold. Despite the fact that he was starting to put together a puzzle inside his head and Jason was still his ally, the heir of the Bat couldn't help but feel cheated in regards of his second oldest sibling, since the lousy Street-rat wasn't showing signs that deemed their encounter with Dick as a surprise. That only led his assumption that the _measly rat_ had known about his partner's re-emergence on this earth and hadn't said it to him—his new supposedly ally to defeat Leviathan at all costs. The Wayne successor would get that _son of a bitch_ to Gotham and get the answers out of his _weasel mouth_ one way or another—with no witnesses of course.

"You're coming Jason." Bruce interrupted Tim's opening quarrel, who then choose to instead position himself strategically between the second Robin and the first one; trying to keep ignoring his broken leg that had the acrobat telling him to sit when they first talked to each other.

Jason clenched his teeth beneath the helmet.

"No. **We're not.** There's no _fuckin'_ way in _hell_ we're gonna set foot on that vermin piece of **shit** you call Gotham now." Then he charged another one of his guns towards Steph, who had kept from moving to the control rooms.

"Jason, stop—"

"It's no use Dick." Tim intervened coldly, not making one move to remove himself from between both older brothers with Damian standing next to Jason but closer to Dick. "I suggest we let him leave. He's made clear his point of staying out of Gotham no matter the circumstances. But _our_ brother stays with _us._ He obviously needs medical attention, and you're anything but capable of proving it."

"Says you, you piece of shit. I have mor—"

"It's irrelevant. Father just said you're coming with us. What Drake adds makes no difference."

"He won't go. Bruce, we should just let him go. He'll only cause us trouble—"

"You bet I will—I'll fuckin' blow your brains out—"

"_Jason!"_

"He's more than welcome to do so Drake, would be paying us his stance—"

"_Damian!"_

"Resorting to use others to accomplish your goals? I expected no less from you brat—"

"_Tim!"_

"**ENOUGH!"** Bruce growled, sending Stephanie an appointed look that had the blonde running to their control rooms faster than Flash himself would've if he lived, and all four birds stopped their aggressive poses. "Three of you need medical assistance, now isn't the time. Jason, this **isn't** an option. You know more into this than you take us from suspecting, so you're coming with. **No debate."** Then he turned to Cass, who was the member closer to the younger acrobat (obviously taking cover if things got violent between the older males). "Take care of him while we arrive—"

"I'm _**sure **_he won't _**want **_to go with you once he hears _what's happened _to _**Gotham."**_ Jason spit-out; bitter at the demanding looks his "older" brother was sending him.

The ambiance went a whole one-eighty from those sudden harsh words, forcing Dick to take pause at the tremors coming from all of them.

"… what's he talking about Bruce?" He asked, almost afraid of knowing the answer when even Cass tensed at the simple question.

"…"

"Tim? Damian?" The gypsy looker from behind his sister's back at the young men avoiding his curious eye, and in turn, went to grant his field vision to his father. There was that distinctive sick feel on his stomach that reminded him of that time when he found Roy and Wally on those tables at the fortress, way before he was lost.

He suddenly wanted to be with them.

"Bruce,..." The Circus carnie let the unasked question hang in the air, not sure of what he had to formulate to nail it point blank.

"_Arrival to Gotham in precisely two minutes. Oxygen masks on." _That voice resounded again, and it only made the remaining Flying Grayson more insecure of his standing.

He wanted out. This was too soon—another change he was positive he wouldn't like if nobody was brave enough—Jason sure hadn't been, and it would've certainly made the Red vigilante's life easier on those two months had he said it to Dick to keep him in that place—too soon to deal with more changes than he wanted to admit.

Where was Alfie, and Roy, Wally, Kate—Barbara…? Did they all knew of this?

"Call Wally—call _Roy_ and _Wally._ I **need** to see them." He said leaving no further discussion on the subject; his right iris widening when he observed meticulously the corporal reaction his family suffered at the mention of the redheads.

Dick shook his head, taking an agile backwards flip when Cass reached for him on the impromptu table, and landing neatly on the dirty soils of his feet; another step away from his family when the realization of what he refused to believe appeared to be true.

"Dick," Tim was the first to reach for him, but Dick's eyes narrowed, silencing him in no time.

"_Welcome back to Gotham. Arrival at the Main Cave will be in two minutes, be sure to remain quiet and inside the Batwing with your mask on for safety purposes."_

It was too late, the gypsy thought, leveling his gaze to what he could observe from the polarized windows of the jet to observe the city—refusing to confront the true that was waiting his acceptance—to clench his jaw in disdain at the sight.

He was home—but was it really?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age Chart:<strong>_

_Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth – 71 years-old._

_Bruce Wayne – 49 years-old._

_Selina Kyle – 47 years-old._

_Richard John Grayson - 9-8 years-old._

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16 years-old._

_Barbara Gordon – 38 years-old._

_Clark Kent – 50 years-old._

_Diana Prince – 49 years-old._

_Oliver Jonas Queen – 50 years-old._

_Dinah Laurel Lance – 45 years-old._

_Lian Harper – 14 years-old._

* * *

><p>(1) Power Girl. Real name Kara Zor-L, but otherwise known as Karen Starr.<p>

(2) Revise "Chapter I.- Remembrance on the Beginning of the End."

(3) The Batfamily.

(4) Revise "Chapter I.- Remembrance on the Beginning of the End."

(5) Lamp-oil smelled different from what he knew of.

(6) Jeff is from the States, Cecile and Antoine are french. Ianthe is from Greece. Fadhila comes from Africa, and Valeria is Mexican. All this characters are created by myself and serve only for reference and entertainment purposes. Don't think they'll pop out for another thing than that. For information of Dragon's Breath, research stated that's what Fire Breathers call their act, and usually lean on using Lamp-oil since it's less dangerous for them to use for their tricks than alcohol, gasoline, etc.

(7) See "Chapter II.- A Bird's Cut Flight" for the actual moment, and "Chapter V.- Messenger Missing the Hidden Message" for a further explanation on that subject.

(8) Got a simple—very simple, just like the one before—doodle of their positions surrounding Dick on the impromptu table at my DeviantArt page—since it seems I can't get the links to work on my profile page alone. You can access it by going into my profile and removing the spaces for the page.

(9) There's no table on the back of the Batwing, so Cass improvised and pulled a couple of boxes where they stash recollected fire-weapons one over the other with her cape serving the purpose of a blanket.

(10) Dick being a boy again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Okay that was that, and we go on with the story, finally having some Bats interaction. Next Alfred will have his say on some matters and Jays will be forced to say at least _something.

_For now, I really had to cut it here, but I tried to explain at least Dinah, Diana and Dick's role on last chapter. So at least I covered something from what was intended. Hope it was enjoyable._

_And now, for my Anon. My, do I smile at this part~ Gotta say, this new way of review-reading and writing while you read-has been the most fun to read so far. It kept me with a mental image of what expressions might go with your sudden lines of thoughts, and also kept bringing what surged from what you read at that exact moment. Awesome.  
><em>_It's deserving of some appreciation when you said that Tim's right just for being Tim. Your logic is flawless on that. Yeah, Dick will be commenting on his stature later-on (he actually gave it a brief thought here. Tim just seems to be the one who would be the smallest of them). Well, it kinda is, so laugh it all up Anon, snorting is just having no boundaries for showing hilarity-something I respect soundly (aka, always snorting here B) ). That computer... but yeah, it really means a lot you like it, having felt it quite easy to loose the reign on it: the boy practically slipped out and _demanded _to be wrote doing whatever he wanted. Such a rash attitude coming from Timbo. The fact you got what I was trying to say with his unusual rash behavior made my day when I read your review, since it's the evolution a character like Tim grows to show in circumstances that I have him going through in here (he'll have his fair share of flashbacks too). But only one point? I give you a whole three out of 'em! Since it's Timmy's number. Yeah, the decision to have Canary portray this role was an instant one that came with many feelings tied to it, given she's just too much of a rich character to having her resort to develop like this, but it was for that same reason it came an easy enough choice of her above many others, since she would grow and produce that sentiment I'm trying to bring out (that you feel exactly), while trying to do what she can for Lian and her decisions that put her on the spot. There's more of that Dinah's part in here for you to brood over too. *Grins* Thank you so much, it means the world to hear that._

_Yep, that little german boy-or so he made everyone think. (Well, just the german part anyway) Later you'll find (and you're kinda doing now too) why I needed a child, and why that child had to be Dick. Hopefully I _will _succeed in covering that in Chapter X, since the explanation keeps getting postponed by the character's interaction that dictates now's not the moment and it's too long of a chapter for it. However, I'm glad you picked-up on the importance I was trying to enunciate with those words. You're absolutely correct. They had to said just for the weight they carry. Yeah, Dinah will never loose that side to her-she just has the need to hide it. Ah, I can't really say I'm sorry for making you feel somewhat heartbroken for those aspects shown as twisted like that, since it's what I'm aiming for. *Pats shoulder* It'll all come to decisive point though, and its really something you're so into what I'm trying to portray, so can't help to feel ecstatic about it. Yeah, I mean, Dinah does what she does 'cause she has too-but that will never mean she likes it, least of all if it's about children._

_Hm, maybe he is just a little out of it? Ahh yes-it's almost inevitable for the Robin's to do so. I remember one monologue in particular Bruce has about it-comparing Robins, it's pretty accurate to what I'm trying to show here and what the comics give window too. It's one of Supergirl being featured, I'll tell you when I remember the exact issue. Oh, don't sob, Tim is out of it, but it was bound to happen-and it'll probably happen again. Okay, it will. Not probably, but will. What's one spoiler? Well, guess Dick's here to tell him that at least. Oh Anon, I'm afraid you'll have to endure some more. *Pats back*_

_Yeah, their interactions were pretty fun to write. Jason wasn't gonna waste an opportunity to get even for having to rescue Tim though. Yep, it was (not for Tim though) You're correct again Anon-actually set it straight in this chapter. But yes, Jason would do so too in a nutshell. Yeah, guess it's a job hazard._

_YES. Exactly. There wasn't a viable manner to make their encounter digestible to either one, so it only seemed natural that much hostility mixed with what had each one worried about wouldn't help when they got into the same space at the same time. Like you said, they got too much between them to not be in the best of terms like either one would be with, for example, Damian. Have Alfred's cookies for that *Grins*. At all costs in all times he will. Yeah, Dick;s pretty forgiving, but at least Jays thought it better. *Smirks* I do have an inner Jason aiding me sometimes...~_

_Yup: Diana. God, I'm enjoying too much your review reactions. They were all too ready to end it (of course that would be too soon for us, so had to intervene). Glad you liked that. Little words do make a difference. They do, and here there's some explanation inside that-it will be discussed further though it there still remain some doubts. It is called Bat-training for a reason right? Yeah, it really is something that all Robins have a special spot for children (Damian's is seen on his Leviathan Arc of Streets of Gotham-a masterpiece). Okay, so those weren't actual bullets, but homemade jelly-like projectiles, since they only needed to escape. *Nods* Can't be too much of a dreamer right? I'm hoping this first introduction that led to her "madness" serves as a great opening explaining it, since I did stated all characters are where they are for one reason or another ;) . I'm glad though that you're finding yourself so open to the concept. Yeah, had to make them even considering they were on a losing ground and fighting against meta's when their only purpose was to escape-for now. Happy it's a good effect and that you don't have problems following through. Nobody does. However, they're far from being "together" to make it happen, so there. *Grins*_

_Tim's that awesome. Nice! Was aiming for that._

_*Smirks so much it hurts*_

_*Nods still smirking* There's no other way to recognize him. Plus, its Cass, of course she'd pushed his wig when she noticed that blue. Yes! You got the Jason part-avoiding the unavoidable. Can I repeat this is the best part of your review? Oh Anon, you don't even know half the stuff that's going on~ *Grins with mischief* Was actually aiming to describe some parts of that in here buuuutttt...  
>yeah, no. It's too soon to leave that much on the open. But worry not! Or maybe a little. You'll enjoy it. The outside lab part was explained here though-so did his interaction with Dinah, so there. If Dinah's part on Leviathan's people isn't clear enough I will tell you she knows about those kids Jason talked about to Damian, and so that's why she had to get rid of those guards when she asked them if they entered that Laboratory-since they probably saw something of that nature they weren't supposed to, had seen the child, and thus left her no room for error. Hope that clears that situation. Explained that here too. But asides that pain he managed to do something-plus, you gotta love those cliff's. Yep, also addressed that unlikely action of Bruce in here. Oh Anon, you make want to give you a big one armed hug at your words~ You said it: Plot twist about covers it up. Yeah, this one wasn't <em>that _quickly, but oops?_

_It's really nothing. Well, you got some of them, feel any better? Or only made more questions rise?_

_*Laughs* You just made a fine description of some version of mine whenever I read yours-though mine do usually involved fist-ed hands snapping in enthusiasm. I do try to make it detailed 'cause I'm always hoping that when something is revealed you'll go "Oooohhhhh~" Let me know if it happens, and in the meantime you do a pretty good working covering it ;) . That's a relief. Yep, and will keep being so (once again, she was one here). No, I'm a through and throughout born and raised Mexican. Your compliment dwells well, so thank you again, really, it's nice you think I do well B). Ah, I'm somewhat obsessive-compulsive on some regards, so there's one reason xD. You'll keep having them, rest assure. Another trait I share with Jason *Smirks*. Yeah, guess kinda went a little off with it didn't I? (You make it hard not to). Oh so very painfully long. Makes it worthy you love it so. _


	10. The Haunting Memories that Chase Us

_**Author's Notes: **__This chapter was hard for a varying set of numerous reasons, and for that, it was also one that had me went through an unexpected Catharsis when the second part came-up, reason which made me appreciate it in a whole different level. That stated, the strong part would be the second opening, right after the Flashback that starts the scenery, so the rest is heavily unedited and does not contain the same quality that second part does (and I doubt any will in this chapter), so bear with me please. Not to say it's bad, but it just can't exceed it—particularly the last paragraphs, reason why I had to cut it short, since it was too much for one Chapter. Hope you enjoy it. _

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

**IMPORTANT:** **Slightly edited (mostly name of Conner that word kept changing) Sunday March, 04th 2012.**_  
><em>

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, Angst, non-explicit Violence, and mentions of Death._

_Wednesday February 29th, 2012 Words: 6,008_

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter X.- The Haunting Memories that Chase Us._

_**~-Flashback: Year 2011. Tunnel directing to the Exit, Main Base for Refugees of the Bats, Munich, Germany-~ **__(_1_)_

"_Okay Timbo, what's going on?" An attractive tenor echoed in the metallic covered-earth of the Exit Tunnels of their Base that Red Robin recognized above any voice he'd ever heard of. Quickly dispatching of his rigid posture in effort of mimicking a relaxed profile he turned towards the circus carnie who stopped walking once he was a meter and a half from him._

"_Dick? What are you doing here…? Shouldn't you be in Gotham—how…?" Tim couldn't keep his voice from betraying his confusion at the handsome man's presence in the Old Continent. The News of Helena's death had struck them heavily, thus giving Bruce the push he had seemingly needed to make effective their current Plan on order: Plan C - Biological Warfare._

_The Bat had just ordered the beginning of Phase One (which they prepared the accommodations for two days ago), and it had been his turn to begin it alongside Metamorpho, since their point was the most strategically precise at the same time as the Outsiders continued securing the innocents on this War they so fervently waged._

_Dick had no plausible reason to be here—Gotham was still under his care, and along with her, Alfred and Damian; how in the world had the original Boy Wonder made it here, and to what purpose?_

_The older man scoffed warm-heartily, the cowl off his face giving place to his electric blue orbs that shinned with concealed amusement but held a fatigue only someone of them would notice._

_Tim noticed. And Tim understood. According to their Intel, now three of the gypsy's best friends (_2_) were presumed dead or M.I.A. and a fourth one (_3_) (if their contacts were right) was just joining the list. It really made no difference one term from another—right now M.I.A. was the same as deceased; it was just a word far more welcoming than the latter. Those were the rules they were living with now._

_And really, could Tim understand…_

_Connor had gone missing a week or so after the riots started._

"_Does it really matter? I'm here now, and that's all that matters." The older raven said with that charming yet humorous clarity he always spoke with. Even when he was practically alone now._

_Just like him. It was something he could always admire of the acrobat, and something he cherished deeply. Nonetheless, it was obvious to the third Robin the former Nightwing wanted nothing short of talking about the subject: not with the mission in peril._

"… _you hacked the Zeta Beam again didn't you…" Tim added with dry humor and a spice of admiration. Dick may not be as recognized on his tech knowledge as he was, but the carnie could just as easily do more than his fair share when he wanted too. The last time his brother had hacked Bruce's code for the Justice League's Zeta Beam they'd been fighting off Ra's army at the Mansion on his persecution after Damian (_4_). Dick had laughed about it when telling him of Bruce's angry-proud patronizing, and Tim had smiled when re-encountering the event slyly with the older Bat another time before he was lost in Time._

_The grin on the acrobat's face was all he needed to certify his well placed answer, and he shook his head in residual merriment the first Robin always produced within him. Even at moments like this Tim knew he could always count on Dick._

… _which was ambivalent on itself since he felt unsure of the Phase One he was responsible to deliver and didn't want his brother know of it._

_Amongst other things,… like Conner…_

"_Really Dick—you shouldn't be here. What about Gotham? It's irresponsible to leave Alfred and the Homunculus on their own—" He started, going back to his regretful stance before the man wearing the Bat symbol had announced his presence. Tim couldn't let the Flying Grayson see him like this: so weak._

_So pathetic._

"_Alfred and _Damian_ will be fine for some minutes, give them some credit." Dick wasted no time in cutting him off, closing the space between them as he put two gloved hands on his shoulders, making him repress an involuntary fidget that he had associated with the man of midnight locks and eyes so blue it hurt to look at them for the past years._

_Tim was against the idea of making himself an easy target for the oblivious acrobat's scrutinizing._

"_What you should really worry 'bout here is you." The elder Bat pointed, and Tim blinked in slight surprise, furrowing his brows at the dismissal the other young man made so flippantly; he had considered his presence was because he had needed to discuss some serious thing with Bruce that had merit the risk of using the not so trustworthy contraption. "Tim, what's wrong?"_

_If he had been mildly surprised by the unidentified dismissal on his prior sentence, he was completely flabbergasted by now. If only briefly._

"_What are you talking about Dick?" Tim said, shaking his head once while prying the hold of his predecessor on his shoulders to take some steps away from him; regaining his space and accommodating a mask to hide his turmoil of thoughts._

_Dick needed to leave. He knew exactly what the acrobat was talking about._

"_You may have a better poker face than me, but you're not fooling anybody Timbo." Dick pointed out, and Tim just wished he had had his cowl on the whole time to aid him. "Look, I know this is a tough spot we put you on, but you need to vent before you go out there and get on with it, or you'll just get yourself killed."_

"_Dick, I seriously don't know what you're talking about. Yeah, it's rough, but we've seen worse—"_

"_No. We haven't. Stop playing the fool. It doesn't suit you." The Bat told him in authoritative tones that shut his qualms disregarding his balance. "Grace told me Tim—she told me how everyone on the team has had to save you at least _twice _from getting _killed _just a week after the riots began." He kept talking, taking two sure steps towards him when both his clear blue's widened significantly. He hadn't thought of the Outsiders telling the Second Batman anything simply because he had been too distracted with many factors that were the same ones affecting his performance. "You can't keep ignoring your feelings Tim—they're obviously affecting you and your team, and I'm not going to risk losing you too on this crazy plan just 'cause you're too damn stubborn to accept your humanity." Dick finished, rearranging his previous hold on him far more gently and with his expression of concern shining through his eyes, turning Tim into an uncomfortable pile of stifle sentiments that were proving to be quite difficult to quell. "Please,… just tell me about it." _

"…"

"…_it's about Conner, isn't it?" Tim heard the acrobat ask softly just for the comfort he gave of not stating the obvious. A nice gesture he only found in Dick and nodded, hiding his face by looking at both their feet and staying in his brother's hold._

"…_it's just that he—" The third Robin took a deep breath to reorganize his sentence before it got out from his mouth and never came back. "We didn't part in the best of terms the last time we saw each other…" He finished miserably and could feel Dick nodding in comprehension._

"_I see. But really, I doubt he was mad at you just because you couldn't say—"_

"That's not it."_ Tim gritted out impulsively before he could stop himself. Instantly regretting it when Dick's silence was all he was met with. The gypsy obviously waiting for him to elaborate further._

… _he knew him too well._

"_Kon wasn't mad because I wouldn't tell him anything. He didn't even _asked!" _The younger man said, grinding his teeth at the confession that kept eating him alive with the least person he wanted to declare it. "He,—he said that he, he…" Red Robin swallowed the dry lump on his throat._

"_He loved you." The taller raven elaborated with no preamble and a soothing melodious tenor, eliciting a gasp from his part when the revelation was ushered with no amount of doubt. No question but the bare nature reflecting the statement._

"… _since when had you known?"_

"_Oh Timbo, it's been so long it's really an unfair question." Dick told him amicably and he simply remained stiff at the nonchalant attitude the acrobat portrayed on the subject. "Basically you were the only one who remained oblivious of it." He kept chatting as there was no underlying issue with the clone being enamored with him._

_A concept that stung._

Hard.

"_I'm assuming you didn't return his feelings." He heard Dick said and shook his head slightly, still recovering from the deep blow of having said acrobat immune to the clone's affections. "It's actually pretty shocking; always thought you two would eventually end-up together." _

**Ouch.**

_Had he said how much the previous blow had hurt him? Forget that—it paled in comparison with _**this**_ one._

_And he said _he_ was oblivious._

"_He's my _**best friend." **_Tim felt the need to emphasize, clearly shaken. _**"Nothing **_more."_

"_And that's alright Timbo, point is there's no reason to feel guilty about it. You gave Conner the opportunity to be honest with you, and along with it came one of the two possible outcomes he knew could happen. It's okay," Dick kept saying, making him feel awful at the truth spilling from his lips and the horrible dagger impaled on his chest at the realization of the first Robin standing at peace with the misconception of him and his friend as a couple, "think of it as your way of helping Kon in moving on. It's okay,"_

"_But he's dead—he's dead and I was blunt with cutting him on his advances and hurt him."_

"_Tim, I won't lie to you and say he's probably okay right now unconscious on some deserted island just regaining his strength for the next level of this fight we have to face." The older male stated in a gentle way, pacifying and making a mess out of his emotions at the same time in the way Dick knew how to, making him tremble slightly at the suggestion avowed. "But I'm also not going to say he's gone now; we've been in this business enough to know M.I.A. _does not_ equal Death." Dick amended in a hopeful whisper that made his heart flutter at how near the raven carnie had gotten to him—almost embracing him with one arm over his shoulder, just grazing the other side of his neck as the other hung somewhat loosely on his other shoulder: his head knocking tenderly in true affection his own._

"It does now Dick,"_ Tim murmured in hushed tones, resting the small part of his scalp that was locked with his big brother's hair; fearful of breaking this small moment they had for themselves and that were now barely nonexistent since the little Assassin became part of their lives._

_Dick simply smiled, and crouched just the right amount to have his face almost touching his. It was a true testament of his commitment to maintain the acrobat blind that Tim rescued the upcoming blush covering his pale skin._

"_You still have much to learn Timbo," Dick whispered in a loving manner, this time making him flush at their proximity and low heart-filled tones, "always remember: no body equals not dead."_

* * *

><p><em>~- Present Timeline. Year 2017. 01:32hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"_Alfred, can you hear me?"_ Came the buzzing clamor through the speakers around the cave; a distinctive female behind the other end calling him, and the old Butler was only too happy to reply, pressing the code on the holographic keyboard to access the bridge and communicate with his kin.

'_We cannot be too careful now Alfred,'_ his ward had said when he'd questioned about the numerous amounts of codes required to communicate with their own through their vehicles. The Wayne survivor having insisted that anybody could take hold of their means of transportation and find them when attempting any communication. While it had been tedious for the British man to accommodate in his weary state the last years he'd complied, trusting in the child he treated as his own, and now, almost six years later it was as if all the time those security measures took seemed like nothing.

"Nice and clear Miss Stephanie," he talked into the comms once he was done with the security measures, the wrinkles of his forehead result from decades adding more to his expression when he crumpled his brow at the sounds of controlled gasps that could barely be noted on his side, "my word Miss Stephanie, are you crying?" the mature Agent asked, worried at the reasons such an act entailed.

Someone of their band getting hurt for instance.

Most definitely.

"_What? N-no! I'm fine Alfred, really! Just—look, please just have three gurneys ready okay? We'll be there in four and it'll help a lot if we have them ready." _The woman under the Batgirl cover cracked almost joyfully, not really attempting to hide the tears underneath her voice, but merging them with a relieved nervous laugh instead.

It was cause for worry.

The past Secret Agent had had under his earlier occupation a considerable amount of experience gained on controlling his urges that converted him into a liability; an ability which was devoid of making an addition with his formal high-etiquette upbringing, and yet he'd still had to make accountable his long-life expertise he'd expanded alongside his charge.

One he'd considered his own son and was fortunate to have the bond redirected at his person.

Nevertheless, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth found himself distressed enough by the anxious behavior of the otherwise carefree and solemn young lady on the other end, as well as the trio of beds he was asked to prepare for their upcoming arrival.

"Of course Miss Stephanie, I'll have them prepared shortly—"

"_Great! Thanks Alfred! See you in a bit,—and don't worry, everything's fine now! You'll see!"_ Stephanie's voice cracked again with released glee before cutting the line short some seconds after he heard her choke an grief-stricken cry at the beginning of her throat.

A repercussion any other would have seen on the navy of his eyes if there was a person making him company to witness it.

With great care summed with a loyal disposition nobody could equal on any plane, the old Butler adjusted his grip on the curve of his crane and made his way with a high posture towards their reduced Medical Stage within the folds of their hideout.

He did not wish to entertain the vastly amount of theories rambling inside his far more than adequate brain that had led the young Lady into that impromptu state, nevertheless it was a unrewarding action, given his thoughts continued presenting scenario after scenario of ravage circumstances.

At the same time he worked diligently on his task, the 71-year old British began establishing the most accurate options on whom he was preparing each space.

The first one was an immediate elect to choose; it was but some hours since Master Tim had been on the Go on an undercover secretive mission the young male had refused to share with them to the extent of having the need to hide it from all of them.

He'd seen the young man these last couple of months; there was hardly any matter going on that he was privy to know, and his grown isolated grandchild making haste on new investigations that revolved around a female decaying corpse on another Base of theirs back in Old-Star City was a state of affairs that kept his trained aged-orbs occupied.

Just as well as his charge's.

Master Bruce had been quick to go after his child once he found the route of said Bird, and on behalf of his continuous insistence, the Bat had agreed to take the teenager along if only to ease his old mind at peace.

Two were better at protecting a third one in case it was needed.

And Alfred was afraid the third party would be so in the tarnished Omicron-Metropolis.

It was now after he finished contemplating said deduction that he finished an impeccable bed with tattered but impeccable-clean white sheets for his grandchild that he inspected with careful navies the tray he'd placed at its side: medicine's young Timothy wasn't allergic to, and that would knock him out if his state were severe, just as syringes the size the raven haired man could handle with the least amount of pain, for they had, once again, ran-out of Morphine to permit him to work with.

Now, for the two remaining seats he had four to choose from; naturally the tormented-guilty ridden Miss Stephanie was out, considering she was the one making the call, which led to the next one that was probably going to use the second gurney he was preparing with that in mind:

Black Bat. Miss Cassandra Cain.

A recurrent ache attacked his worn-out chest at the same time he used the smallest of their medical beds to have more space to work between his family and patients when the tired woman came into question.

Deducing her as the second subject that would heed his attention was an instant logic decision once the former one was out; Miss Stephanie had been on their side but for a mere period of 60-days, and sweet Miss Cassandra had grown into her part within their family so much that the amazing woman did everything in her power to avoid causing others to lift their fingers, an action her father relied heavily on, that included handling the Batwing.

If Miss Cassandra wasn't in charge of managing their transportation means (even after he'd heard the command given to her by the Batman when he'd asked for a lift) and after she had handled it when he had aided both girls on their previous Mission on the Battlefield with Black Bat in charge of communicating with him then that only meant the woman was hurt.

Reason for the petite table with another spot-clean but worn-out sheets alongside another tray finished with rougher instruments for bullets removal, an extra amount of bandages and oxygenized water to avoid any infection the only daughter of Wayne tended to require after any Mission deployed.

Sometimes he walked to her room in the early hours of the day, just as the sun rose and she slept in the same place he was staying in to insure himself she kept breathing and hadn't torn-off her stitches after a particularly rough encounter. The British gentleman was positive his loving granddaughter was aware of his presence more than half of the time, but refused to say anything.

She worried him more with the fold of a new day.

For the next table he couldn't help but be at a perplexed loss—unsure if only for a miscalculated second of his medical attention.

His child, or his youngest grandchild sired by his son.

Either decision was hard, and with a heavy heart that only moved based on experience, he prepared another heavily packed tray for the first Gotham Vigilante.

There was no doubt when any of his boys or girl were concerned Bruce would put himself on the frontline and take the blows, hence he prepared a specially cleaner bed; taking out the best sheets he had that he knew his ward appreciated—symbol of their previous lifestyle he'd had educated the Billionaire Gentleman with on their decades as a pair on a lonely broken Mansion until the presence of a child filled the empty halls and void spaces, procuring a new set of warmness on their high status and proving a mainly tenacious effort from both their parts to educate him in the same manner.

And his heart broke a little more, folding the whites slightly tarnished by time and unremitting use neatly in place. So diligent and with grace he kept standing; crane imperious in place and profile regal in nature of his ever-faithful disposition regardless of their dreary accommodations and imperfect maddening surroundings. Ready to heed his services to the people he treasured and kept in the most sacred confinements of his aged-imperfect organ, for it was the only way he could demonstrate the immeasurable amount of care and cherish he guarded those who made him just a bit more complete and had taken his loneliness apart once they entered his life.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~-Flashback: 22 days after Dick Grayson's Murder, Year 2011. Middle of Warfare of Star City's Streets-~<strong>_

"_But Bruce, don't you want to give him a proper burial? __**Dammit, **__he's your_** son!"**_ Roy yelled at the stoic figure that had walked away from them after securing both him, and his equally redheaded friend on a "safe-zone" near their area. The Dark masked Vigilante had kept silent during the whole hellish ordeal they had just went through but an hour or so ago, and the Archer wasn't sure how to neither take nor react to his silence._

_Wally stood at his left side, a trustful red-gloved hand over his broad shoulder to keep him from reacting in a way that would insure them the complete opposite from what they wanted from the Bat. It was understandable, after all, all three grown men were tired from the battle they had waged back in the City of Steel (_5_), scarcely coming back in one-piece with no results to back-them up on their extensive research._

_They knew Bruce enough—not actually counting their experience with him whenever any of the pair had worked with the Bat on League business, even if that was enough to count for—but from their best friend who had spent his life trying to do everything and anything from pleasing his father, to marking a line that separated both integrants of the Original Dynamic Duo from being too much alike: one semblance his dark-haired friend was at constant battle with when in reality he was more alike to the Bat than any of his numerous partners were, to know that they had little _if anything_ short of a chance to actually manage getting more help from said Crusader now that they had come back empty-handed._

_But that didn't meant they couldn't keep from trying. They were _sure _Dick was there, and the acrobat was worth all the restless nights and pains the childhood friends had encountered in this frenzied three weeks day in and day out._

_Loyalty was a Titan thing. A _Teen Titan _thing, and this was _Dick _they were talking about._

_Their best friend who had placed their well-being before his own (yet _again_) and resulted on him being murdered in cold-blood by the gypsy's old favorite hero._

_It was their responsibility—they also had a plan back-up to continue searching for Garth and Donna too once Dick was around again so they could make their peaces with each of their friends and rest at ease with the proper respects made—as it was to turn-around all the bullshit flowing freely (namely Superman) all around._

_For that purpose, while he and Wally kept confident on their capabilities and positive of being able to handle it by themselves if the Bat was firm on his decision of eradicating from further pursuit, it would undoubtedly aid them to solve things a lot more quickly if Bruce just buckled-up and gave them another shot._

_Roy was desperate to set things right—he needed his best friend's help in setting the World straight and a safer place for his baby girl back at the Base with Alfred. Ollie sure had gave him some grief, insisting on taking Lian with him to avoid her from impeding danger if she stayed with the Bats just alone the unholy amount of pursuit the Gotham Crusaders were sought after, and it was only by the trust the Navajo had in Dick's family that he refused his mentor's offer and kept Lian with the trusted Butler._

_Dinah hadn't (devastatingly so) been a choice for him… he hadn't even sought her after he heard her battle and then saw her witness his friend's murder but a few meters from him. Canary wasn't on their side now, and Ollie had confessed on staying there just to offer some sort of amnesty to both him and Lian now that they were the only ones left of their Arrow Family._

_Wally, he knew for his part, was interested in keeping the twins and Linda safe, and had too, sought after the Butler's care as he was being chased madly by Superman._

"_It's over boys: the body means nothing if he's already gone anyways. Get used to it." Batman muttered stoic as he placed more distance from them, and Roy could feel Wally's grip tighten in distress and repressed emotion—a feat to be applauded for any speedster._

_It gave him room to rearrange his thoughts once he felt the uneasy vibrations from the Meta that indicated a slowly but surely loss of control and the strength he occupied to swallow his anger at the dead tones from the most influential figure on the acrobat's life and answer calmly._

"_When we find him—and you can bet your ass we will—you'll have no one to blame but yourself." Then he nodded at Wally, who was bursting with energy as he controlled himself from saying too much; again, an congratulatory feat by a speedster. "Thanks for the ride," The single father said, relinquishing in the visible flinch inflected on the caped Gothamite at his former words, "say hi to Lian for me, and tell her take care of herself."_

_The Flash nodded, still watching with those green eyes the dark figure that was dissipating on the horrible alleys._

"_Tell Linda and the twins I love them, and to keep each other safe."_

_Neither young man waited for the Bat to express his confirmation, Wally had already taken Roy away with his buzzing super-speed to their next appointed place._

_For the first time, they weren't sure whether to be glad or sully disappointed by thanking their influence gained from Dick that kept them from saying all the information they knew to the Big-bad-Bat._

_They were alone, but they knew._

* * *

><p><em>~- Present Timeline. Year 2017. 01:36hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

The Batwing was parked almost correctly in place, Stephanie giving herself one last peak at her reflection from the polarized windows on the pilot's cabin to ensure herself her puffy eyes weren't as bloated as she thought they were when Bruce had sent her to drive manually the jet to their Hiding spot.

"_Welcome to the Main Cave, removal of masks can be done now." _The same mechanical voice provided to all occupants, Batgirl paying heed to the instructions at the same time she pressed the buttons required to open the gate for her allies and reasserting a forgotten smile on her beautiful features.

Alfred stood on his same spot, waiting for the members of his kin to rush towards his well designated work space.

Master Damian was the first to fume out of the vehicle with angry steps and awkward movements that made the British gentleman wonder the basis of the teen's troubled indicators. The hood of the self-appointed Night-Robin was up, the domino mask most probably in place as he strode past him with heated steps before vanishing in the dark tunnels that encompassed their refuge beneath Arkham Asylum.

Miss Stephanie came in second, handling a pale man under the garments of Red Robin that had his head low and one of his lower limbs on an improvised tourniquet avoiding on making contact with the floor. Alfred had been right (Master Bruce wasn't the first Detective of their family for nothing when he'd had an expertly retired Teacher at a young age), but it did little to quell his relief as he signaled to a red-eyed broken-smiled Stephanie to the gurney corresponding to Master Tim.

"Here Miss Stephanie, careful of his foot," he said watching the woman with her cowl down nod with care as she pushed the body of a mute bird over the white covered table, her face marveled at the assorted equipment that was obviously meant for the third Robin in line.

"Wow Alfred,-you really are the best," Stephanie said with contentment once Tim was down, flickering hurt in her blue crystals once she saw the pale raven-haired male cover his own orbs the moment he was down on the table to be treated.

Alfred could summarize Master Tim's attitude came in conjunction with getting himself caught by his father and resulting on a severe injury on himself, plus the other one's he expected from his ward and said ward's daughter. In a direct result, he managed a small nod towards the blonde soldier who kept on her place watching sadly the man he saw grow into what lay and the gurney as he started peeling of the boot with some strong knife—material was scarce this days—mindful of the boy's limb and said male's intakes of breath that described pain.

He was just expecting to see the other two emerge from the Batwing, already prepared mentally for the care he'd have to apply when something unexpected happened before his very eyes.

"**FUCK **_**YOU!"**_

The Agent fell his hands stop as his navies slowly travelled the source of such vehemently placed profanity coming from the metallic entrance just to reassert the presence of a leather-clad dark Hero with his expected Red Helmet storm out the same path the youngest of their extinct group had.

"… Master Bruce…?" He spoke confused though pleased with the second Bird's return to their haven, cut short when the Wayne survivor entered the Cave with his cowl on and his daughter a beside him one step behind. The Bat showed no signs of damage on his person, unlike Black Bat who had a broken bloody wrist—the bandages that her costume had over her hands one articulations soaked in burnt-crimson colors and small holes, indicators of a couple of bullets as suspected; the two Waynes walking with heavy-spirited steps.

"Master Bruce, Miss Cassandra, it's a most wonderful relief seeing only another table will be needed, welcome home." He said, and watched as Bruce accompanied his child to her place just by his brother before she adorned him with a repentant look on her brown windows.

"Sorry Alfred," she said in that quiet voice of hers and the Butler smiled tiredly at her in return.

"Nonsense Miss, just procure yourself with more safety—"

"No." Cass interrupted the British male, unable to meet the other's gaze and aware of her father's tense position centimeters from her. "This isn't for me," She said, pointing with her healthy hand at the place obviously prepared for Batman, feeling said man's hand over her small frame reassuring her it was okay before he pushed her to said place with the watchful stare of the faithful Butler unmoving.

"Alfred," Came the gruff voice representing the Head of their family and it made the elder prepare for something he wasn't sure of.

Miss Stephanie had assured him everything was in order—"okay" if he were to paraphrase the woman's words, so why was the tenor speaking to him rough on the edges.

More than accustomed of course. Master Jason probably had some part on it, but he was confident that it was the right decision—

"Something happened, and I need you to remain calm and tell us if you feel any type of discomfort at any moment," Batman told his butler matter of fact, heedful of the possible consequences something like what had come to them might give his parental figure a Cardiac Arrest if he wasn't at least warned.

"Master Bruce, surely you have more faith in me than that. Is this regarding Master Jason's appearance?"

"… you could say that. It has yet to be proven but can definitely be considered a fact."

"My word, what in heaven's are you—" Alfred articulated before feeling his insides run cold at the sight stepping down from the gate of the Batwing.

At his 71-years the Butler had thought he saw everything this world had to offer, having lost one of his grandchildren more than a decade ago, to then losing the one he considered his own son some time after to having been part of a War so enormous it turned around the World entirely after the death of the start of his third generation. The majority of his adult life filled with mouthful amounts of impossible settings that had made him almost unbreakable at the appearance of any new-development.

But this was a view so astonishing the British Agent seemed unable to prevent himself from gasping at the sight of a younger looking Dick Grayson walking soberly towards him; the vivid recollection of a broken child that found his way into their halls when Bruce rescued him from Juvie and fostered him a home for months before deciding to take him as his ward, and years later, ultimately adopting him into the Wayne family.

Cane aside, the old man rushed at the sight, the limp on his step preventing him from taking more than two steps before he was supported by the small arms of a young boy he never conceived to face again until death came his way.

"Master Dick—it's you." Was all he was capable of getting outside his troubled head—a mantra that kept repeating itself now that he saw the tarnished smile the youngster threw his way as his hold strengthened; some moisture behind the electric blue on his right side as equally presented on a less than familiar left-out iris.

"Yeah Alfie, and it's so good to see you too." Dick quipped swallowing the pained tones and tensing at the strenuous ambiance that revolved this new Cave he was trying hard to bypass, instead he smiled a little forcefully, confiding in Alfred to take him someplace else where they could both chat some more and help each other to ease their spirits out.

For now, he needed to give himself some space from the other ones; and regardless of everyone's clear denial on granting him some answers, he trusted the Butler to do otherwise. Then he'd have to go and search for Cass, Damian, Jason, Tim, and Bruce in that order to confront his clear dismissal to their interactions at the plane.

It was a lot to process, and time was needed.

"By heavens Master Dick! You cannot imagine how true are those sentiments on my part!" The aged-Butler cried out loud, nodding in appreciation when he handled him the cane back.

Alfred had always been there for him, and he just didn't wanted to be completely alone right now.

There'd be plenty of time for that soon enough.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age Chart Present Time-line:<strong>_

_Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth – 71 years-old._

_Bruce Wayne – 49 years-old._

_Selina Kyle – 47 years-old._

_Richard John Grayson - 9-8 years-old._

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16 years-old._

_Barbara Gordon – 38 years-old._

_Clark Kent – 50 years-old._

_Diana Prince – 49 years-old._

_Oliver Jonas Queen – 50 years-old._

_Dinah Laurel Lance – 45 years-old._

_Lian Harper – 14 years-old._

* * *

><p>(1) See 'Chapter I.- Remembrance on the Beginning of the End.' for notes on this whole Flashback. It's before they captured Stephanie Brown and straight after Helena died in a simple timeline. There are some other small notes that take place even before Helena's death belonging to Tim's interaction with Conner. It was when Kon went to see if Tim would spill details of their secrecy before the shit hit the fan.<p>

(2) Roy Harper, Wally West and Garth.

(3) Donna Troy.

(4) See "The Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul". Great Graphic Novel. Or the Issue it came from "Nightwing 138" it's on the first pages and belongs to the compilation of the Hardcover Novel.

(5) Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. For references revise "Chapter VI.- Flying Wayne's" on the part regarding the Flashback of Jason and Net's first meeting were they discussed the actions both Original Titans made regarding Dick.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__So not much to say right now, 'xcept the delay was for internet issues regardless of having it two days ago. Hope you enjoy it, and finally will put on the next chapter (stress the word his __**finally**__) Dick's "explanation" to the other Bats regarding his appearance, as well as a change in the Present Timeline __**and **__at least one new character added to the mix. Plus, and this one has me really excited since I've been looking forward for it since the very beginning—Arkham's Immates. *smirks*_

_My shot-out to my ever-loving Anon follows, and you know this part I cherish and look forward to a lot, so let us commence shall we *grins*?  
>Yep, and it's a facet I really enjoy like you already noted, it's pretty interesting to see you're happy there were some explanations (and that you read the note at the beginning). Who can't right? Dick's just that way. Glad you enjoy them, I'll tell you this—the Chapter's name is the final piece I add to the whole Installment so it's actually one of the main reasons I take an extra day or hours to upload it, that said it means a lot you really appreciate them. Yeah, there's my O.C.D. right there *smirks*, can't help it, and don't actually aim to do so. Yes! That was actually her main past sin she was referring to—kudos for you Anon, you're definitely on the go in here. *Nods* Pretty poetic too, though lovely hears a lot more nicer; that line was one of my favorites too, so high-five.~ Yep, I actually kinda hinted that on other chapters, but made it a point to make it a statement here—new can of worms indeed, and you'll get the majority explained on next chapter (or at least some, let's face it—I tend to delay on explaining things *shrugs one time*). Yeah, it'll also be dwelled in later, though when I can't really say, it just added that something I was looking for, so it came with a pass right away *grins*. Yeah, after all she's still a product from the gods, since here I'm actually conserving her birth from "arcilla" (can't remember word in english and no internet *grumbles*) and all; it's encouraging to see you're taking well all those changes on her person but also get that she's still the same person that, as you said, became more twisted with times. The crystal glass was one that I had bets you were going to pinpoint—I'll give you a cookie if you can mark the bulls-eye from said detail. Levels of dominance are a must in this new society, and of course our lady's are too BA to let that pass by. *Laughs* Yep, and you'll see more of that interaction considering Dinah is basically Superman's pet and refuses to have more confrontation with Diana, which also explains why Dinah still looks for further favor. *Smirks crossing her arms above her chest* That my dearest Anon, is for me to know and you to find-out. To be fair, the hints left are hard to find. If you do find out however, I'll reward you with a huge spoiler (already know which one too *smirk widens*) Kinda, in earlier chapters I stated her strength had diminished significantly, as did when she was getting tired in her fight with the Bats, but fear not, it'll come in bigger explanations as her flashbacks come more and more. Yeah, funny how everything revolves around their mysterious pasts huh? But Dinah's awesome like that to be prepared for a bomb. *Nods* Never doubt it—Gotham is Gotham, no other city will ever be like it. Pretty much, and yes it's sad, but so it's the way her dice rolled. The one and only Donna Troy—and I couldn't agree with you more on the Titans. That my Anon will be said later, can't spoil my fun—I mean, yours *snorts* Sorry, sometimes can't control my tongue (and you certainly make it hard to).<em>

_*Nods away grinning* First glimpse at the Amazon's head-how exciting is that? More so than revealing? Well, Clark has his reasons—or not, it's a long while for those to appear *pats back*. I'm pretty content with your progression on Diana's view, seeing how well you're adapting to her growth, and your random screaming makes my grin hurt it's just great. Ambivalence is a common trait, worry not. You'll get where you need to in time. Hell yeah, it's all about protecting their own—even from alleged friends. Once again you have me satisfied at your progression with the Amazon—it's amazing, considering you loved the same part I did about her thoughts. *Sighs content* It's what I do~ *winks grinning* Don't worry, I'm actually concerned with the possibility of you falling prey to that action once you read Alfred's final part—it got me *sighs*. Donna means a lot, so yeah, Diana was ought to fall like that—another kudos for you feeling that._

_*Smirks* They are aren't they? Can just imagine you… absolutely—their practically impossible to overcome. That does put him back in your list doesn't it? The rising point in it is how you feel about Dinah though._

_*Cheshire cat smirk gnawing my face* All your words—all of them. It's something that you came-up with being okay with the whole circus deal since very ambivalent reactions came from my end—I actually aim to ramble some more but have to cut it short (it's late and I got a pretty bad signal, making me fear not being able to upload this baby) so I'll just say that yes, every facet has it's darker face, whether it's hidden or not, and I share your opinion on Dick being an observant child since he was young—he's a prodigy for something, and has one too many talents that go by unnoticed in his early years simply because his adaptations haven't been completely based from his more aged early days. Understanding but craving is his firm so it's something that you love it. Yes he has his memories and Jason has his moments (we all do ;) ) His stature was another defining motion you got, as well as Tim's moments in their reunion which were the most welcoming to write of all. Dick sure is realistic, but keeps his optimizing nature—it's part of him after all. That part includes voices and bodies with him being such a touchy-needing person (and it's Cass). *Smirks shaking head* Said you wanted me to surprise you. You keep flailing Anon! You got the breathing part, and the hi and the good-bye that replaced it (one of my favorite parts that will come back too) and everything and your adoration for that moment truly makes my day and the effort it took to get there *smiles*. The effect of his cape is vastly significant, and you loved it and went into the idea to the point of understanding their positions regarding his safety from now on. *Snorts* We won't have to see that one, it's okay. Melt away, was just waiting for you to mention their reactions; it came easy to write them, so you shrieking had me stiffing a laugh, how well you feel the bond and reasons behind Cass and Dick's relationship (that was and will come again) interrupted said laugh and brought a smile to my face-it means more than I can explain how well you get the girl's role in here with the amount of cherish her character spurts in me. *Laughs* One has to love those two-it seemed poetic to add his growth on this. Bruce-you-... you made a spoiler without intending too, his peace of mind and age gained will be discussed further; cookie for you Anon. Plus Alfie. Practically an adrenaline injection. He did it in the only way he could do it. And you got more Timbo time-frame here too~ He's just so enjoyable to write. *Snort* Suggestions? *Snorts again*. Yes to all your feelings. Tested will be discussed on the next ones to come (repeating machine in here are we?); you got Alf's reaction here. *Pats back* They all do. Dick's scars are gonna be specified later (preferably when I get the time do so in an author's note). That will have to come later too I'm afraid Anon (something amazing for you on the next installment regarding them I'm sure ;) ). Give yourself more credit-you can handle many and more. Hey, it was the natural course, considering they just got his brother who was apparently with Jason and just as quickly the latter wants to take it back. Urgh, it's already written but had to cut it for what was said, but it'll come next chapter. Heh, what can I say? I'm a nocturnal creature. Sorry, gotta say both redheads are dead (specify it again here just for other purposes, but yeah, sorry)._

_Yep, I'm that intuitive *smirks*. Definitely-and yell all you want. Makes it more delicious. He was sitting in the boxes and since Tim hasn't grown since they last saw each other, well, Dick only needed to stretch himself a little to do so. When I read that it just went with me and that's why it's here so early (in the beginning to boot). It's what makes Dinah such an amazing choice of character. That's a relief-and another one right there too. Thanks, it'll be better that way, trust me, and it's something it'll have to come for a better a understanding, so yeah. *Smirks* Maybe not ages...~ Like you said, it's canon. Simple as that. For me they are-middle child here too, so *raises eyebrows up and down smirking*. You're more than welcome, glad to be of help._

_Wow-that's... the most awesome thing I've heard of here *smirks too much happily*._

_Believe me Anon, I can get an idea, there's still other chapter ahead of the whole family (even a new guest) so glad you're really getting into it. So keep acting as such and just sit back-if the suspense lets you *smirks*-and go on with the show. *Snorts laughing* Yeah-I actually was smirking. Getting cocky huh?_

_Right back at you-this was the highlight of my week. Oh, now you're just making me want to blush aren't you. *one half shrug grinning* I do too find your thought process quite interesting and just something completely amazing. Stop, now; can't actually help it and you got a bro of mine (I'm looking at you Sam) to thank for it, so you'll have to continue bearing with me; surprised you noticed the jokes, since I didn't. Force of habit guess *grins*. We are! It's awesome-bro-like awesome. Hope you rest and enjoy, really. Looking forward for another of our insane conversations as always._

_Questions, constructive criticism and comments are always appreciated._

_Thank you to all those who read, leave reviews, and/or put this story on their favorites or alert list._


	11. The Secret of Gotham City's Inmates PI

_**Author's Notes: **__Okay, several things to be addressed in here. Starting with alerting that I've added a Timeline on my profile about the story's important events in chronological order counting the flashbacks that have been presented too. I recognize this story is too detailed and may be confusing with so many things going on, so there's an updated Timeline for references up until Chapter X. I'll add Chapter XI's points later in the week. Second, there's an apology. Had this chapter done by the third week of March, but my laptop was borrowed and my hard disk too. Following that, came work and so on. Then, when I finally got my computer I had already designed a change on what I wrote (one some parts that I added) so the chapter had to be cut into Part I and Part II, of which Part II is half-way done. Anyways, in here there are mostly references to the issue of No Man's Land map that Batman had with him. Tomorrow night I'll be able to upload that map with the colored areas that are belonging to different sectors in there, as you will see in here. Also, there's some heavy angst in here, since Dick still is on his first day with all the bats, so bear with me (don't do angst that much, want to go to horror and romance already) and the time change in the Time-Line got until the second Part of this Chapter too, though there are some new characters in here. Enjoy.~  
><em>Oh, by the way, shout-out to Sam. Her stories <em>_**"Where's The Justice?"**__ and it's on-going Prequel __**"It's Just Us"**__ are wonderful as is the new Chapter of 'Where's The Justice?'. Just look on the Young Justice section._  
><em>_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, Angst, non-explicit Violence, and mentions of gore and death._

_Monday March 19th, 2012 - Edited on Thursday March 29th, 2012 Words: 11,363_

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XI.- The Secret of Gotham City's Inmates. Part I_

_~- Present Timeline. Year 2017. 01:32hrs. Gotham County Underwater R.R. Tubes (_1_), Gotham City._

"Batman is back." Waylon Jones, more commonly known as Killer Croc growled out at the apparition of the Billionaire on the City of Gotham—mother of all—just by the sound of the well distinguished Jet breaking the dark skies above them. It was just instinct alone that drove him—_every one of them_, to recognize when their Dark Crusader entered the City or left it all the same. He dropped the quivering mess to the dirty floor; his orange orbs paying attention to the sound of the turbines coming from the Batwing in order to locate the point from said vehicle's trajectory for this late evening. He and his companion having kept busy taking care of this wretch and the other one they'd encountered some minutes (half an hour maybe?) ago, when he smelled a foul stench grazing on their perimeters thus, gained both their attention.

An accepted hum was heard getting farther away from him; the mutual reconnaissance of the Nocturnal Rat returning to his Cave noted before sirens were heard in the faraway streets surrounding all corners of the Antique City, obviously signaling the same message both had shared, followed by hollowed laughter from the speakers and many reverberations coming from other ones, welcoming the Bat to his Lair.

This time, he and the other one kept silent for the duration of the noisy greeting. Today they had other welcoming panels to give, and silence was heard for approximately four minutes after all the yelling had begun.

"Tell me again Croc, why should **we** be in charge of _this _abominations." Ivy spoke with no real interest into her exotic pitch, not even giving a smidge of importance with her emerald eyes on the terrorized figures a few meters from her while she sat on her beloved tendrils residing on the R.R. Tubes within their Bat's City. Her ever-faithful comrade in arms, Killer Croc, stood vigilant on his spot, resisting the urge to feed himself with the low-lives that had made its way into their hands by some ill fate and poor decision making on their part.

One of them had already lost a hand to his eagerness of fresh meat and was making a mess on his soil, all curled-up and done with throwing-up.

Oh well, they all deserved to die in both Inmates' eyes.

Croc gazed at the beautiful redhead that with years on her kept portraying a physique that encircled all that was sinful to men and women alone by carnal pleasures resting luxuriously on the ill-fated green plants that stood strong only in the limits of their City. He then spared a glance at the gutless sacks that stank of unrestrained fear and red veins; a shadow of gluttony crossing his diseased eyes briefly before shaking his teeth and getting past the thought of a well-deserved late night snack.

"They trespassed our Zone."

"That much is obvious Croc," the Botanist drawled bored outside her mind as she petted amorously the green vine curling on her hand, "what I want to know, is _**why**_ this _insects" _Pamela emphasized, seizing her motions and directing her plants towards the trembling men that itched away from her preying eyes, "thought they could get away with placing their filthy mitts on _**our**_ City." She finished, getting on the males' space and freezing their movements with the intensity of her green colored pupils.

On the other side of the intruders a predatory growl from Croc reverberated, and the two men soiled themselves with the combination of both Master Villains on their skin, knowing there was no prayer or higher power grand enough to aid them now.

The growing smirk on the beautiful woman centimeters from them established that much, and a terrified sob escaped their lips as they continued to cry endlessly to their ill fate with no recognition from the two murders of the Prohibited Gotham City.

"Fortunately," Ivy continued, savoring each syllable; not caring for the grown Military Soldiers of the shameful Omicron-Metropolis' shameful outcries, "that's a question one of them can very well answer for us."

"There's two." Croc savored, the back of his throat grumbling in appetite and Ivy smirked, pleased at the action and consequent result. The shadow of the grown Gothamite enveloping the new bait ignoring the sudden screams crying for mercy at his approach.

"_I know,"_

* * *

><p><em>~-01:57hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"Here you go Master Dick," Alfred spoke with caring longing, directing the young boy with a steady old hand above said lad's shoulder to an improvised bedroom not that far from the Main part of the Cave they'd just vacated. It was hard to keep a quiet mouth once his aged eyes landed on the upper part of the gypsy's neck that wasn't covered, but the elder man managed to hold his tongue with all too much experience and quickly opened the door, stepping into the small space that was hardly ever used.

"Thanks Alfie," Dick told his old-friend amicably, making sure to solidify some visual contact with his working eyeball purposely and ensure his well-being. Receiving an amorous smile from the Butler, the carnie grinned briefly, deciding to silently inspect the corners of this bedroom. The place where he was supposed to rest.

It was tidy—a clear signal from Alfred's heed that had a welcomed feeling inside his ribcage. On the middle of the room a bed stood faultless; sheets the color of stained silver with one pillow over it. Two dressers he remembered from a resort house Bruce had on _Rio de Janeiro_ on each side of the simple Queen size bed; one large mirror in front of the mattress and above a larger dresser that had nothing on it. The only personal item was one frame over one of the bureaus that Dick recognized all too well and had him biting off a cynical smile.

The bedroom was obviously Bruce's. A deficiency of warmth and usage could tell him that much.

"You're welcome my dear boy, now you go and rest, since you've declined my offer to help you get cleaned-up—"

"—it's fine. Just need to change and maybe take a shower. Go and take care of Cass and Tim, Alfred; they're the ones that need you right now." He cut-off the British man before he became unable to stand firm on his decision. No lie was told after all, and then he'd have that chat with the grown man. His siblings just needed him foremost.

"… of course my boy, though I'm afraid there's no suitable clothes that can be of any help for you right here, I'll come back in a few moments to provide you ones that suit your new… needs." Alfred told him courteously, falling easily into their well established relationship with the same smile permeating his face, though it fell a little when his eyebrow rose in that natural role he'd taken with the acrobat long back when addressing the special circumstance he was in right now:

The matching sense of humor that made the dear British so recognized on all worlds—the media, and the superhero one.

Dick grinned once more, winking charmingly at the elder Agent in acceptance and making his way towards the bigger dresser for a shirt and some shorts that could very well be enough for the moment. "I'll manage, don't sweat it. By the way Alfie, can I wash up here or…?"

"Of course Master Dick, you'll find a restroom on this very door," he talked at the same time he crossed with his longer legs just beside the larger dresser, resting his cane to open the rotten door that creaked by its hinges, signaling to the simple toilet with a broken washroom on one area and an impromptu shower head on a little side of the undersized space; appliances practically new from use but not antique on one surface, and a big towel washed out on the pole supporting the blank shower curtains. There was something wrong with this image—nothing regarding the very suitable bathroom (Alfred would surely faint if he saw the one back on Jay's first base with him on the border, just before the second Robin took him to Mexico) that had some charm on it—but on the aspect of belonging to Bruce.

Instead, the child nodded, clearly dismissing the man for the moment being.

"Thanks Alfie,"

"You're more than welcome my boy," Alfred repeated stepping outside and remaining on the frame of the barely used bedroom for an instance, "Dick," he said, swallowing with constricted emotion at the boy's tremor from his unusual lack of title bestowed on his name, "I cannot express how much you've been missed, and how happy I am to see you again; just remember if there's ever _anything_ that you feel you need, please tell me… I'll be more than happy to assist you my dear child. Now go ahead and rest, I'll be right here when you wake." He chanted seconds before closing the door and giving himself and the first Robin time to breathe.

He had half a mind to go after the Butler; questions that needed answers pending on his mind, but a distinguishable sound of his father stopped him on the act.

"_Is he sleeping?" _He heard the Bat from the other side of his door, and Dick dared not to move; afraid the Wayne Patriarch would hear his steps and kept silent on his spot.

"_He's just about to Sir. I've sent him to shower and rest, soon as I find him some clothes that may fit him."_

"_Hm." _Was the grunt pointing Bruce's short affirmation on the facts. Trust Alfred to know his reluctance to see his father for now. Still, he kept immobile, waiting for the conversation to continue after a minute or so of silence.

He knew the billionaire well enough to assert he was just making sure he didn't heard both men's talk about him.

"_Alfred," _

'_Bingo.' _The acrobat thought, sharpening his ears when Bruce lowered his tone.

"_Yes, Master Bruce?"_

"…_how is he doing? I've just—his back. And Jason—" _

Silence.

"…_We had an inconvenience on the Batwing. The boys are upset, and so is he… I don't know what to do Alfred."_

"_Come along Master Bruce, let's go see the children and then talk about it with a nice cup of tea, shall we?"_

Steps on the outside were distinguished, leaving a black hallway as the only result.

Dick braced himself on the edges of the dresser, teeth gritting and glaring at his reflection momentarily. Might as well take a shower and put on some other clothes, maybe take a little nap to calm Alfred. Then he'd ask the butler what everything was about. He had no room feeling remorse for snapping at his familiars when they wouldn't even dignify a straight answer to him about anything—not even his last remaining friends that were probably now deceased by the looks he got.

And then, he would call Mage and get out of here.

* * *

><p><em>~- 03:49hrs. Daily Planet Edifice, <em>_Omicron-Metropolis._

"Fine, just inform him the report on the Event on Omicron-Metropolis is ready and pending of his confirmation." Black Canary spoke with the phone already leaving her ear and cutting sharply the response on the other side of the line when she bluntly hung-up said artifact.

An impending migraine had twisted it's way on her brain and kept squeezing her brain with no remorse. The woman massaged her temples, finally done dealing with the consequences of the unexpected events in the late night of yesterday and the early hours of today's morning. Right now she had one priority set straight—

—take a nice _hot _bath and search for Lian to have that little talk one more time. It'd be awkward with Ollie in town, but the bath would have to suffice for it. With that in mind, she had a destination set for the rest of the evening; her responsibilities could wait her 'til morning came again; after all, if Clark was all but ignoring her, who was she to press matters when a well deserved rest could be achieved from it back on her own City?

Taking the steps down without the large amount of lethargy she felt in her core, she tried to fend off those images of that lost child she had face and the horrific nature of her acts. Chanting time after time and again just like one would a mantra that she did the right thing, and now that child was at peace…

* * *

><p><em>~-?-~<em>

He blinked, somewhat perplexed at the new area encompassing his lonely figure. There was no border seen anywhere, though he did think that if there was some way to explain the place he occupied, he would probably fail to name it—and he'd gone to his fair share of places in and out of Earth at his "young" age.

Interest sparked, and need to pinpoint his whereabouts had him walking, barely giving it another thought at the wind whistling around him and moving the set of clothes that hung loosely on his tiny frame: the shirt from the Dark Knight falling off his shoulders in a consistent and annoying pattern along the shorts that resembled more a baggy set of pants on him.

Barefoot he walked; attentive of any sound or interloper that might spark a clue; he had been walking along the grayish and blue planes for what felt like hours, and at such point, the acrobat had wondered why he felt no thirst or hunger from his extensive walk when a slight sound that resembled the bird his mother named him after piqued his attention; his electric blue eyes directed at the source and widening in consideration when the source of the small sound made a bigger one in time with his attention.

"Dick!"

'_Donna…' _Was the only word chanting inside his head at the sight of the young girl waving at his way, just like she found a treasure. It was before he knew it that he was being tackled by something into the blue ground—a heavy and warm weight on his small chest as Donna's sweet voice called his name once more, this time a lot closer than the first time before, and Dick recognized a new set of chords joining the mantra of his name added in the mix.

"Dick! Man, it's _so good_ to see you buddy!" Wally West's voice chirped enthusiastically on top of him, and Dick could see from only one angle of his vision a heavy array of wild red hair resting below his chin.

"Geez Fleet-feet, you're gonna end up suffocating him before we can even get a word outta him," Another one added to the mix added, and Dick had to raise his head to see the ever-cocky posture of Roy Harper smirking at him when Wally stuck his tongue to the other fellow redhead of the group.

He thought he was dreaming—and maybe he was, after all, here were almost all of his friends around him and.

"Dick!"

'_Garth' _The gypsy recognized, now counting all four members while Wally was removed from his place over his chest by the heavy hand of the one and only Wonder Girl, taking his place with hers and embracing the life out of him with the Poseidonis native joining in the affectionate action. It was only then that Dick became all too aware of the few centimeters Donna and Garth had on him, despite being raised from the ground by the enthusiastic Amazonian Warrior of their group.

"Psh, and they say _I'm_ the over-affectionate one of the group." Wally joked half-heartily getting himself up from the floor and staring at Dick with a sad smile.

"Guys, what—not that I'm not happy to see all of you, but—" The Bat spoke confused, returning the gesture from Donna; he really had missed them… they were his family after all.

"—what are we doing here? And more importantly, looking like this?" Roy pointed to himself as he sported the red outfit with the yellow hat that had a feather on top of it. "Beats me man, all I know is that I've already said I'm over with being a teen again—and we're not even teens now!" He spoke distastefully, removing his hat from his head to mess his red locks, taking off his domino mask in the process to reveal a perfect set of blues that hung hard on the acrobat's half-dead ones.

"Yeah dude—it's like déjà vu all over again." Wally explained, moving his red gloved hand of his Kid Flash's uniform just when Garth had finally let go of Dick and stood awkwardly on his short set of his Aqualad outfit he'd used when he was a pre-teen. Donna had stopped floating in the air, but still hung to the carnies' much smaller form in her Wonder Girl outfit, ponytail included, but much more subdued.

"Are we dead or something? It really makes no sense." Garth spoke with his small voice throughout confused; violet orbs stealing regretful glances at their leader every few seconds that the later couldn't really object.

Dick still looked like a mess, even showered and in a fresh array of clothes.

"I don't think we all are Gillhead," Roy spoke sparing a quick stare at the aforementioned just to see the expected glare at the nickname before resting his eyes on the center of attention that was his best friend, "I mean, I love you guys and all, but if we were all dead, and this was the idea of heaven, I sure as hell would see my baby-girl or even my father in here, and not be stuck as a 10 year old in some getup that's supposed to stay on the past."

Wally snickered in his hand before being handed a hard glare from the archer at the result from his last comment, but really who could blame him?

"Ahem," the speedster coughed, clearing his throat before bestowing a serious expression, "I agree with Bowhead in here; Uncle Barry would be someone I would love to see… not sure if Linda and the kids count, since I wouldn't want them dead but…"

"Dick," Donna spoke for the first time, using the only soprano in a space full of tenors to grab everyone's concentration as she hung loosely on the kid's figure that she held with love attached to her every feature; she was no younger than the acrobat, and had been a little bit shorter than him when they reached adulthood, but right now she had an advantaged height on him that only girls have on boys when they're on their early years just before the males reach their spurt growth, "Bobby is not here either," and the boys felt her sorrow at her silent qualm, "I know by Hera, that if this was what the Gods had in mind for our rest after all the battles we've been through, then we wouldn't even share this fate together."

That had them thinking and only brought up one possible solution.

"… it's all in my head," Dick loosened himself from the girl's hold, and shook his head slightly, feeling devastation with what he had already contemplated and set aside as the most logical answer, "you guys aren't really here—you're not real."

"I take offense on that," Garth attempted to alleviate the mood, draping one hand on the acrobat's small shoulder resembling his own, "and not to insult you oh-fearless leader, but you don't look so well. What happened?"

"Beats me, this is all just so messed-up!" Dick growled, detaching from the warmth of his teammates to give himself some breathing room; after all, they weren't actually there, so why bother and be tortured by his own subconscious any further?

"Dick, just tell us what's going on—how did you get that. The only common factor in here is,… well, you." Donna tried, but her confusion only brought more from the apparent source.

"Look, all I know is that apparently I was dead, and now out of _nowhere_ I'm back alive again on some messed-up World where not even _Gotham _with _Batman _on its tail was able to keep it normal!" He raised his voice, letting the frustration come into his person by pacing in the little space and avoiding the knowing looks of the people he grew with, "Everything seems so different from how it was, and the worst part is no one wants to tell me _anything _and they all keep fighting over the most stupid things! It's almost like having Leviathan winning and the Earth in a perpetual state of _war _doesn't make a _damn_ difference because they're all too mad at each other for things that happened _way before I died! It's __**ridiculous."**_

"Dick," Roy tried, but the acrobat shook his head, wrapping his calloused fingers on his dark locks and all over his scalp in aggravation.

"I should be dead—I remember _dying_." He then turned his half-functioning stare at his friends who stood uncomfortable at his appearance, "I died, and then there's this blank space that's been replaced by shadows I don't know and then Jason's face is staring straight at me, and I'm not dead anymore, but I'm not a kid either—I'm a full grown man the same I was when Superman **shot me** on that scenario, half-blind with constant blackouts _**and**_ a tear-off back that makes everyone uncomfortable. Then, suddenly something happens out of the blue and I'm left wearing clothes almost a third of my age…" He finished his tirade exhausted; shoulders slumped and heavy air above him. "… I was hoping seeing everyone would make all the bad seem better but it didn't; _two months_ trying to see the good that came with being back in a place I don't know," at that sentence he left a strained opening before lifting his blind eyeball at what he had last seen the four juniors, "and what's worse, you're all dead…" he shook his head, massaging the bridge of his nose in distaste, "and it _happens_. Believe me, _**I get it**_. But—I was dead _too,_ and now I'm not, and how did this—" the circus boy mumbled but was stopped shortly by the well aimed punch of a yellow gloved hand connecting to his jaw, thus sending him to the floor and staring at the hard glare from the archer above him.

"Roy!" Donna admonished, flying to his side and helping him get up just to swat a strong hand to the back of his head on her own reprimand.

"Hey!" Dick protested glaring at the two and standing again just to be swatted again by a super-speed hand and falling to the floor. Garth stood by, and Dick just raised an eyebrow in expectation, "…aren't you gonna throw in your piece Fish-boy?" he asked with dry humor covering his childish features and getting up again.

"Nah, I think you got the point already, but if you keep it up I just might Short-Pants," Garth responded all too good-naturally with both hands on his hips standing by Roy's right. Wally appeared on his left and Donna just by Dick's right side.

The raven-haired carnie sighed, giving himself a moment to close his eyes and then reopening them once more to grin up at the others staring at him with the same expressions slowly gaining on their serious facades.

"Fine; I'm good now and done complaining. That any better?" He asked with contained mischief at the more welcomed looks he got.

"It's okay Robbie, you just needed some good-old fashioned sense beat into your thick Bat-skull brain. Telling ya man, kids this days," Roy spoke with that superfluous arrogant playfulness that described his true nature only known to their inner sacred circle of five.

"Yeah, we know you get those Bat-moments from time to time, s'cool man." Wally spoke, suddenly leaning on his left side with one of his arms over his shoulders and smiling at his face; two emerald eyes shining at him and Dick had to share a laugh at them.

"If it's alright with you boys," Donna stated, regaining the awareness of _her _boys with both hands on her undeveloped hips in her Mother Hen role, "I think it's best if we continue with the conversation, though it's always good to see Dick getting the underhand of the situation," she said, winking at the amused laugh she got from everyone before turning serious again, "we don't know how long we have, or why we are here, but the common point's Dick."

"Yeah, you said that you died, but honestly I don't remember that," Garth added, looking confused at the news, "and _Superman shot you?_ When did **that** happened?"

"You were declared M.I.A. way before that went on Gillhead," Roy covered for Dick, shaking his head sadly, "probably dead by the sounds of it. Anyway that's what Road Rash and I assumed after some months."

"I see." Garth stated sober, not upset by the nickname he had always resented with Roy.

"What about me?" Donna shook her head, looking at the other three boys that resembled the statues of the temples where she prayed next to her sisters, "Did I have a Warrior's death?"

"We don't know," Wally said scratching the part of his scalp that was free from his uniform and maintaining his other arm over his best friend's shoulder, "I don't actually remember much shortly after Garth went missing; just suddenly remember being woken roughly with Roy by you," he said, looking at Dick's blind orb, "you were in Batman's suit, yelling something about getting out of there, so I just reacted and got us out of the place. Think we were in Superman's fortress." At that he looked at the older Redhead for confirmation, which he got when he nodded.

"Yeah, I remember that as well; we were butt-naked too, what's with that?"

"You guys were on some kind of tables; was supposed to just go and rescue Steph and the others until I say you two unconscious and just lost it." Dick half-shrugged, glaring at the floor in contemplation at this opportunity to fill in some of the blanks. This was a lot better than the couple of months he tried to sneak off from Jason's constant vigilance. "It had been some time since you were also reported M.I.A., but like I once said to Timmy, in our area of work, missing does not equal death."

"Amen to that," Wally whistled and Garth nodded profoundly, "though it brings the question—"

"—what did Superman wanted you for? Yeah, that was the one constant thing running through my head from the moment I found you 'til died by his hand."

"Which also begs to wonder—how do Roy and Wally know that?" Donna's temple creased, and she crossed her arms over her chest; her childish face adorable with the pout she adopted, but all the boys were too aware of making fun of her—they've known each other for years after all.

**You don't mess with Donna.**

"We saw him Wonderchick."

"Yeah, Arrow-breath and I got away in time thanks to Robbie over here," Wally discarded the upper part of his costume hiding half of his face and left it hanging freely on his back, emphasizing his point by straightening his hold on the bird, "and got to watch every minute of the Boy Wonderful's final act with Bats and his crew on one of their spare Caves." The speedster spoke regretfully and leaning more into the boy of raven locks, who accepted the contact more than gladly.

"Oh," Donna uttered, turning away for a moment and embracing the acrobat by his waist, taking special care to not disrupt the hold the freckled Metahuman had on the boy, "so how come Dick says we're all dead on the real World now? What did you two airheads do to get yourselves killed." She stated more than asked and Garth could only look curiously in expectancy alongside Dick as the two other boys muttered loosely under their breaths.

"You did what?"

Roy heaved a sigh, smashing pointedly azure eyes against electric blue standing a meter and a half from him, "Look, we don't have time, Road Rash over here and me got into some ugly mess trying to recover your remains, and Superman got us before we could."

"What do you mean 'we have no time'?" Dick questioned, regrettably breaking the sandwich hug he'd been part of to be closer to the archer, "If this is a representation of my subconscious then we sure as hell have more than our fair share of time since I'm not planning to leave anytime soon."

"When has it ever worked like that with any of us vato? Particularly _you._" Roy made no hesitation to answer, and Dick had to grumblingly agree with that point. Life was never that easy, though to be fair, if it were it'd probably be a lot more boring.

It was either seeing that way, or loosing himself to madness, and he liked his sanity thank you very much, so his options were limited.

"We did everything we could for _you Robbie_," Roy continued, placing his bigger hands on the smaller shoulders of the brunette that didn't sported the Titan's Uniform, "don't let it go to waste; find out what's in Superman's lair, the secret resides in the—**argh!"** There was a sudden intake of breath from him matched with a painful grimace taking over his face as he fell to the floor with one too-many tremors reducing him into a pile of unforgiving spasms.

They had all succumbed into the same ache; their little juvenile forms twisting with each attack of stabbing pains on the blue soil with grimaces and gasping for air that could not be regained.

Dick's vision became more blurry from his only functioning window, and in one last attempt he made to grab the hand that was reaching towards him—one he could not distinguish from the raw stabs aiming at his head, lungs and extremities, but he knew that if he lost that hand he would be left alone again.

"_Look for Lian!" "Search for the twins!"_

The first sidekick discerned from all the echoes attacking his mind as his vision went darker and darker still.

"_We'll be here!" "Don't lose—! s—together!"_

Was the last statement he could tell apart that came from those sources previous to the blackness consumed him altogether and he was left battling to get out from it.

"_Master Dick wake up!"_

"_Dick!"_

He gasped shocked from his core, sweating profusely and seating upright on the bed with gray sheets back at the new Cave in Gotham with Alfred and Steph gazing worried at his decomposed state.

'_A dream,… it was a dream after all,' _He thought, calming his rapid breathing, _'Funny how even though I already knew that it still feels wrong.'_

"Dick, are you alright? You were grunting and wrestling a lot—Alfred had to call me to make sure you were okay." Steph, now in a new set of ordinary clothes spoke. She was clearly distressed, and the boy felt ashamed she had been present to watch him in a moment of weakness that was privy to only the nearest people to his heart.

"Yeah,… jus' a bad dream I guess…" He said, grinning away and moving his hair out of his face to fake well-being, "Nothing to fuzz about. How's everyone doing? Seems I took a longer nap than what I intended,"

"My word, boy. You've only been sleeping for barely an hour." The butler chastised, mindful of the bird's apparent discharge of discussing his dream any further, "Miss Stephanie, can I please entrust you to see if Miss Cassandra has moved to her quarters? Heavens know that girl would be outside if we left her unsupervised within the hour."

If that wasn't a dismissal, Dick didn't know what one was, and Stephanie obviously saw it as well, nodding and sending both males as cheerful a smile as she could manage before retiring and closing the door after her.

"Tell me everything." Seizing the opportunity, the gypsy left no room open for misguidance as he turned towards the British Agent who remained impassive on his place with the cane strong on his hold.

"You must understand my dear boy, Master Bruce was left with little to no option to most of the choices he's made within the years." Alfred talked with no trepidation, his stare unrelenting and supplicating the boy to understand truths that were certainly going to be hard to swallow.

Dick cared not for the nature of those statements he craved—at this point he just wanted to know; he'd form his conclusions later on when time was given to think them through.

Besides, who was he to judge the verdicts that kept his kin standing in a place that searched for their extinction just by the looks of it? He had to be understanding to a point to his father.

He owed him that much.

"I have that in mind Alfred. Right now I just need to know—and if someone in here can tell me anything, it's you." He stated, not breaking the eye-contest, the older man deflating first from their silent match.

"…very well, what do you want to know first Master Dick?" He asked regally, already feeling the repercussions falling on their backs when all the truth got out.

"… are the Original Titans, dead?" He asked with no tremor on his voice, and the British inside the room had a hard time distinguishing the statement as a question instead of a fact.

"Yes," Alfred replied, "Master Garth was the first to be established dead, followed by Miss Donna shortly after your assassination. Then, some months later, Master Roy and Master Wallace joined the list when they kept acting with no restraints in the world that followed your demise. There was nothing Master Bruce could have done for your friends Master Dick, bear in mind they were both set on finding their peace and that led them to their end."

The infant nodded, crossing his arms as he thought about his next question and left not a muscle to betray what he had come to accept with that vivid dream (he could still feel the stabs).

"What of Linda, the twins and Lian? We were looking after them before I got to Roy and Wally." The boy asked; words that replayed on his head about the families left behind.

"Miss Linda and her children were kept under the protection of the Batman, Sir. That was as per your wishes, and what Master Wallace left said to Master Bruce the last time they say each other shortly after they left this plane. However, Miss Linda thought it best to leave with her children shortly after the decease of her husband and did so promptly. Master Bruce tried to kept them in his guard, but she had none of it. As for Miss Lian, well, she was the first to be removed by the hand of Mister Queen,"

At that Dick couldn't hide the grimace. Oh if Roy found about that, he imagined he'd be turning in his grave; though to be fair, he wouldn't exactly know from which option the archer had in respect with his father figure. Ollie had something on his favor, and that was how he never treated Lian with anything but pure adoration that would've also been well received by the first sidekick archer. He supposed it was alright—as long as his niece was okay. He'd have to look for the West's on the other hand.

"Though Master Bruce was adamant about it at first, Mister Queen was quick to change his stubborn mind by promising the child would be kept safe and away from the dangers that we have to carry on. Of course, Master Bruce keeps his records on the young lady and more often than not keeps watch on her activities,"

That final admittance left him quite surprised, and the young Bat didn't try to hide it.

"Really? Bruce keeps watch on Lian?" He asked disbelieving, "Why?"

"He knows how much she meant to you my Boy," Alfred answered matter of fact, "if you so desire, there's a file of her in the Main Computer with some recent pictures; she's grown to be quite the young Lady."

Dick smiled, pleased all the way to his belly at such revelation. He'd definitely had to take a good look at them before leaving. Now came the hard part, and he removed the up-rise of his lips with the same speed in which they had came.

"What happened to Gotham?" The youth asked, blue eye burning in thirst.

And if was all it took to make Alfred's fears grow ten-fold as he began his tale.

* * *

><p><em>~-03:49hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"You have some explaining to do Todd!" Damian yelled, at last finding with the street-rat's whereabouts. He'd been inside his own quarters sulking for an hour after his lost brother had snapped at them in barely contained anger inside the Batwing, before he had enough and forced himself to swallow his hurt pride at the Acrobat's rejection, regardless of his encountered feelings on the matter to search for the cause of all this turmoil:

_Todd._

Thatsneaky foul _rat, _had kept Dick's appearance a secret; a sin that would never be forgiven on his behalf, and had also failed to continue their established partnership, mingling with the likes of _Drake _of all people when he and his father found both of them falling from the perilous building hours previous to now.

The older Robin had certainly a mouthful to enlighten.

Jason grumbled, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his cigarette; he had the impressive amount of nine finished nicotine products by his feet as he kept staring-off at the dark tunnels filled with waters meters from his standing point.

"I'm busy right now brat, come back again in two hours and maybe I'll be in a better mood to put up with your Princely attitude and not blow a hole in your spiky head," He barked without deigning him a look, already knowing the youngest bird would not be placated that easily.

"You're **not** in the position to make any demands Todd; you _**lied to me**_." Damian growled right back, stepping closer to his elder and with his uniform still in place. The only thing that he'd vacated from were both his masks that covered his eyes and mouth.

Jason turned angrily towards him, not giving a fuck of getting into the space of the ruffled teenager.

"And you're **not **in the position to try and start a fight with me you little _shit_." After he said that he released the smoke into the teen's face, enjoying with sadistic satisfaction when the youngest bird tensed his jaw at the unsavory smell of cigarette blown at his face. "_**I'm **_the top dog in here, and you better get that through your thick skull, less we have unsolvable problems that lead to the perpetual _termination_ of your contract."

"_Try it Todd."_ Damian took another step further, smashing his nose with his predecessor's, not scared at all by the tough words the other one spoke, though he was certain they were true to an extent—that extent just including the delinquent could _**try **_to bring him down; nothing more. "You knew Grayson was alive and you kept it a secret from me—your accomplice by your choice alone, and then I find out you're mingling with _Drake _of all people. You have a lot of nerve to refuse answering my claims."

"Oh for fuck's sake—!" The rebel Bat cursed, getting rid of the finished piece of nicotine and lighting another one to calm his desire to make his previous sentence a fact. _'The things I do for that fucking—' _He thought, stopping himself to glare more intensely at the other male in Robin's garbs.

"Listen Brat, don't you _**ever **_accuse me of hanging with that **Impostor **by choice. _Your _job was to keep him away from interfering and ruining everything, and you **fucking blew it,** so don't come bitching to me if you couldn't even keep him off my back." Jason was quick to attack him and point aggressively at the other man's chest. "I didn't know he was **alive** until a day ago when I was trying to blow those motherfucker's base, 'cause **unlike you pussies**, _**I**_ buckle my shit and actually do stuff that means something."

"I'm not a mind reader you imbecile—how do you expect me to read your every move when you refuse to make simple requests like those! And don't think that I believe those atrocious lies for a second! You knew it beforehand—!" Damian yelled at his face showing his fangs and incisors in the mist of his rage; he'd felt betrayed when he found the Red Hood and his father's Pet clawing at each other back on Metropolis, and had only increased his boiling anger when he found Todd was saving the incompetent Drake from certain death; then, to make matters worse, there was no lie behind those deliberant actions that indicated the second Robin was in a hurry to get someplace else, nor his sudden grab at his cape when he saw Grayson running away from them in the battlefield, or the way the aggressive beast had almost tear-off their sister's arm when she ascended the Batwing with the first Robin in her arms.

There was one too many factors to not see past the treacherous lies.

"_**So what? **_ We all knew they had him, but that didn't make any change in here so _**get over it Precious." **_ The man behind the name of the Red Hood growled, closing that topic. "Now, **I don't care** if you have to get behind Bruce's back or if you need to break that _Impostor's _remaining healthy leg, but _**you**_ need to keep him **away** from our business. If he so much as _sneezes_ into something that's not your normal M.O. then you **disable** his attempts, because if it wasn't for that _**fucker**_, maybe Dickie-Bird wouldn't have been on the crossfire to begin with!" Jason hissed in low tones, grabbing the other's hood by its neck to lift him slightly from the floor, an action that hadn't the desired effect of intimidation.

"With what authority you dare to demand those requests after your treason—" Night-Robin whispered venomously in return, matching the quiet tones and taking hold equivalent to the one the delinquent had on him.

"_I said shut it brat." _

"_Make me Todd."_

Both brothers continued the glare match, neither one backing down for minutes; finally when Jason decided he had enough and had a new need for a smoke Damian turned his glare away, detaching from the hold and dusting his uniform from invisible dust; giving his back to the vigilante gone rogue.

"This is not over Todd; make no mistake about it, and when I find out the real truth you'll be sorry you didn't give it away on your own."

* * *

><p><em>~-04:21hrs. Someplace near Port Adams, City Hall District (<em>2)_, Gotham City._

"He's been like this for the past three hours or somethin'," One goon whispered nervously to his comrades near the dark and dirty streets of the stained city. The four older men didn't had a bone in their skin that didn't had that stench of a corrupt criminal of the infamous City of Gotham; all wearing ragged soiled clothes that gave them a dangerous air, with their faces painted differently on both sides, attempting to resemble the outer shell of their Boss who kept his distance, almost in line with the Port meters from them, tossing his coin over and over again, staring at the high skies with all those aged skyscrapers encompassing the view.

It was starting to get on their nerves, and quite frankly, for a nameless criminal of Gotham that was something. There was nothing going on in the streets that belonged to their Boss that the man didn't knew about, and with the tendency the Master Criminal had to go from a silent stone to a rabid dog they didn't know what to expect asides from a sudden bullet on their skulls just for the kicks of it.

"You think he saw the Bat?" Another of the greasy adults asked, scratching his skull while one of his companions cleaned his face with the side of his hand, dispersing part of the paint that divided his face in half and mixing it into a clutter.

"Beats me, jus' sure as hell startin' to creep me out. 'sides, if it was the Bat wouldn't he have gone to the City Hall after the announcement hours ago?"

"Yeah; the Boss wouldn't have stayed sittin' there and starin' at who knows what." A third bald one agreed with the last one that had spoken, leering none too cautiously at the steady figure of Two Face who continued tossing his coin and watching the early skies. "And it's not the Boss' turn to have custody right? We would be over by the Financial District, over Gotham Harbor then,"

"Yeah, so really, what's up with him?"

"Who cares?" The fourth one who had remained quiet, and was the bulgiest one of the group spoke with a low tenor, snapping at the other's who were more interested in gossip than guarding their Boss. "Soon as your shift is over the sooner we can go and sleep and not have anythin' to do with this; so jus' focus on the job at hand morons!"

"But Jeff ain't ya curious? It's creeping me out!"

"Shut up assface! It's none of our damn business what the Boss wants! You see Croc or the Penguin in here? No! So jus' focus on the job unless you want to be handed to those freaks by meddling with the Boss' things!"

A sinister manly chuckle broke their intense quarrel where all four head had bundled over in a small circle, making the goons twist their heads in its direction to watch the before-known Harvey Dent being outlined by the shadows the moon casted on his grotesque features. The coin had stopped being tossed and was now imprisoned on a firm grip that trembled from the force of the action.

Suddenly they lacked the guts to keep their little chat, and the dark chuckles reverberating in the streets from the ex-District Attorney made shivers run all the way up their spines.

"… umm… Boss…? You, uh, ahem, you alright there…?" Jeff asked attempting bravery.

Two Face lifted his head more into the pitch black skies of his City, a full grown smirk covering his facial expression at the present situation in a malicious nature; the white half of his hair gleaming in utter perfection, and the brown of his right side shining with some old grays sharing the space. There was a full amount of things that went on the big 'G' City that only the Top Heads knew about, and only they communicated with each other and cared not for informing their lap dogs; so whichever new brand of information that had Two Face in a mischief-engulfed gleam only he would understand, and the only spoken words coming from his mouth revealed nothing of the sorts to the terrorized lackeys on the other side of the panorama, but made them fear them just with the same intensity as if they would have known the meaning just by the dark substance enveloping that short sentence or revelation:

"… Boy Wonder is home,"

* * *

><p><em>~-04:50hrs. Abandoned Juvenile Center, Old Gotham District, Gotham City.<em>

"You shouldn't be here." Bruce spoke in a rough whisper to the boy that was perched on the chimney of that decayed Building that once had fostered children who committed crimes of adults but were too young to be put where their souls belonged. The early morning was chilly—something odd at April's nature, but he knew Freeze's District was practically around the corner, down there by Tricorner Yards; it was all depending on the man's mood, and by the looks of it, today he was in a good one if he let his domain share that climate into Two Face's Territory.

Whether Dick decided to ignore him or didn't find reason to answer his question after the disagreement on the Jet Batman didn't care. The place was dangerous with the Inmate's thugs strolling freely around the city; constant little wars from crossing provinces a fact seen on a day to day basis; his son could refuse to speak or look at him back at the Cave where it was safe.

"Needed some air," Batman heard the small childish voice provide with the wisdom of a man he ought to be to this day if not for some unknown circumstances, "plus," he kept saying with some mirth adding to the tone that indicated sharing of a private joke—and if it was, the bulge on his heart could easily been explained, though he knew not to keep his hopes up with the way his boy may have already known of their City's state, "figured you'd come here to find me," Dick had continued, pulling a small grin just at the same time he had finally decided to look at him, and it only made his chest clench in a torturous way at the shared private allusion he would be the only one to pinpoint; he could only nod rigidly in response, not trusting himself with anything else for a brief moment as he recollected his repressed sentiments regarding his child and the subsequent memories.

"… it is where we first actually met (3)." Was all he relied on responding, the grit on his tenor slightly filled with rust at how well this became of a mirror image with that same boy perched exactly where he found him in this exact same costume, with a physical disposition similar to the one the child had once sported with the kids abusing him on the Center; the left eye had once been covered by a parch, and it was ridiculous to see that in this case though that same eyeball was left uncovered, a damage beyond repair was in its same place instead (4). "And you're still going bare feet 5." He couldn't help to add.

Dick grinned at him again, obviously pleased that he remembered that night so well, and Bruce would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that eased his stance by a fraction. If the boy was so willing to conjure such a lead to an explanation, that meant he wanted to be found—exclusively by himself—and, in return, wasn't holding the retention of information of this time to his chest to that an extensive of an amount.

"I knew you would remember Bruce," Dick told him, and the Bat took a step closer; his mind set on taking him back effective immediately.

Harvey Dent was always predominantly zealous of this Edifice; reason that explained why it lingered untouched with no people allowed to enter the premise. Batman knew the sick man had more devious reasons behind his actions as expected from the delirious mind behind the distorted face. Dent would _know _if someone set a foot, vine, claw, or jester on it.

They needed to go. _Now._

"Dick, we need to go." He supplied, reaching to grasp the infant's forearm on his strong grip to take him home.

"You did what you needed to do, you know?" His son's voice stopped him dead on his tracks. The oxygen mask the young child sported doing nothing to lose assertiveness of his words. It left him unsure; he hadn't expected the acrobat's reassurance on a matter as unstable as Gotham's direction over the years. Not after he refused to answer his demands and blatantly ordered him to forget that for the moment and tend his injuries. "Won't say it's not mad—'cause there's no other word that fits it better than that,… jus' sayin that you did what you had to, to keep Gotham safe. I mean, having the loons' live outside and the civilians in the Asylum?" In here he cringed at the easy tones the carnie kept during the whole statements; he hadn't had one ounce of a doubt when both had crossed their eyes and the lad had spoke to him when he first awoke on the Batwing by his daughter's arms, but only by having present how Dick let his emotions run with his voice (raising his tone, adopting disbelief and curiosity with bewilderment and respect, all with cleverness attached) the old Bat could swear he was his protégé and not some meticulous project to end him and the rest of his kin, to the extent of killing if otherwise.

That bright electric eye turned to him, all youthful and sad at once.

"That's brilliant—I mean, they're practically the best type of guard dogs you could get, and with Supes state and Ivy's domain beyond the city limits—oh! Not to forget Crane or the Joker's toxins—or Croc, Penguin and Freeze's intervention, then there's Harvey with Black Mask and—" Dick kept saying speaking quickly as the actual thought sink-in. On that note alone, Batman knew this was the first time since Alfred had revealed what shamed him the most, that Dick had spoke it aloud to himself; which meant that even if he thought it was what had needed to be done, there was still much to repent from that action.

The carnie then sobered up, inhaling a minute breath and watching him somber after his tirade for an unbearable amount of time that had the Batman conflicted more and more as the seconds ran by.

"… it's not my place to judge you Bruce," he finally spoke, breaking the torturous wait none had seem too kind to interrupt, "who knows? Maybe if things had turned-out different I would have been the one suggesting it," that gave the Bat a renewed sense of relief, but was wise to not take it that easily, "and out from all the places Alfred's told me about, Gotham seems to be the best one still standing," Dick shook his head, but Batman kept his posture rigid, not unlike the gargoyles that decorated their mother's womb, "and out of everyone, this decision must have been the hardest to swallow for **you**…" At that, the gypsy turned to look at him again, but he made no move that betrayed how that had been a straight bull's-eye shot.

He had told Dick that there was no one apart from Alfred that knew him as well as he did; and even after years apart that sentence rung and applied.

"… Bruce, I'm sorry you had to do this alone." Dick told him earnest, making him swallow imperceptibly at the amount of years that had unexpectedly taken from his back.

He had lost one child back on his years as Batman and Batman alone, at the hands of a crazy madman who had kept years after his birds.

Jason had returned, and that feeling though subsided had never went away, alongside those years that came with the loss a parent suffers from having to bury one of his children.

Then, years later, he had been torn apart from another one of his offspring, as Batman and Bruce Wayne at once, by the hands of a man he'd fought with side-by-side, and had confided to the extent of erasing the Kryptonite all over the planet for said alien's fears, and more years had been added to his heavy back.

What made a remarkable difference in here were the perpetrators—one was a madman who had obtained an unhealthy interest on the Bird's actions just for the simple principle of having a direct link with him.

One could not reason with a madman. One could not reason with a Criminal Mastermind. And one could not reason with a cold-blood murder.

Kent had been none of those before he pulled the trigger and made the void inside his torso the only remaining occupant.

And here was his partner—his _**son**_¸ apologizing for not being there when the sentence was ought to be backwards.

Alfred had done a terrific job.

"Dick," His name came from his mouth, appearing unbreakable and unmovable—a true testament to Batman's well-known nature, "there's nothing to apologize for." An imperceptible swallow that was lost to the boy with those big eyeballs, "We need to go back; you must now know this is Harvey's Territory—"

"How's the Mansion?" Dick asked striking another chord at him; fortunately he'd been too aged to perfect his movements and not let his tired body betray his contained thoughts.

"… unoccupied." Was all he offered, watching Dick nod in silent understanding.

"Just like this place?" Another bulls-eye, but Bruce was in tune of the boy's bright demeanor—they had been the first Dynamic Duo, and Dick had been named 'Boy Wonder' for palpable reasons.

"… just like this place."

Both kept each other's stare, the ambiance of the place finally settling into a more welcome revenue that involved a mixture of long-installed comradely and family.

"Bruce," his son whispered, and he kept quite waiting for the lad to clear his mind and finish the request he knew it was ought to be, "I never got to ask you, but," a pause of uncertainty that was quickly overcome by the sure stare aimed at his white lenses, "do you miss it?"

Batman needed no more elaborating on the matter; the same as his son knew him, he knew his son... those good days where times had been simpler and their relationship not as strained with the exact amount of comfort their own presences gave one another as they pass the nights guarding their City: running together and balancing each other from skyscraper to skyscraper merged with the night.

"Yes." The Wayne adult answered curtly honest. No lie would ever be enunciated with it.

A sincere grin that had jollity aroused with a spice of mischief became part of the first Robin's façade, and Bruce had a mount full share of theories explaining such an action—

"Let's do it." His bird interrupted, pulling down his borrowed sweatshirt on the side of his neck to reveal a vibrant red vest that had an 'R' symbol on a crest the Original Dynamic Duo shared all too much.

For another time in the brief span of five hours, the Dark Knight found himself rendered speechless by the shock from the action presented.

"Just one night—for old time's sake," Dick told him; a desperation lingering on the undertones of his voice.

"_Oh! _ **There** you are." A well known spat bust such peace; the sight of the Red Hood above a building at their backs mocking and hurt.

"Jason," Bruce acknowledged with a condescending bite.

"Must be getting senile in your old age Bats; had a breeze lookin' for you." Jason mouthed maintaining the level of his taunts high. "Good seeing you haven't got an ounce of shame in your bones to be showin' what you've done with the place to Dickie-bird over here."

"I've had _enough_ of your remarks, and you still have _much_ to explain about _**this."**_ Batman snarled from his post, threatening the line in which the red vigilante stood.

"I have **shit **to explain to _you_—and **why **_**the fuck**_ is _**he**_ out here in the first place?" Red Hood demanded pointing an accusatory gloved finger towards Dick; the carnie had an oversized sweatshirt that covered his juvenile form completely and a pair of shorts that could have very well been pants. At least there was a mask providing the acrobat clean air—but that was beyond the point and not fucking enough to explain it. "Who's this area—_Dent?_ Are you _**fucking**_ insane?"

"Jason, that's enough." Dick told him adapting a standing position from where he had been perched on the chimney and turning his head to his right to have his sight set on Jason's irate form.

"The shit it is—just 'cause Alfred's told ya 'bout how crazy this shithole went doesn't mean he really told you how fucked-up the city went. So the hell with this rattlesnake's pit—let's just get the fuck outta here."

"Look," Dick began but was crudely interrupted by Batman when he took one protective stance over him making himself the wall between him and Jason.

"Regardless of your nonsense—we need to talk," Bruce practically demanded and had his second oldest son give him a distasteful snarl behind his helmet in return. The Wayne survivor cared not; it was past time to resolve his issues with the black sheep of the family, and he had to resort to violence to make the street-rat kid understand the imperative part of his statement there was no doubt flickering inside his head he would do so, "I know you're lying Jason, there's more to Dick's appearance and your involvement than you two are letting go by,"

"Bruce, I don't know more of this than any of you," Dick informed, referring to the crowd that now took place surrounding the Juvenile Center, taking special care to meet the other four Gothamites' eyes, "I remember waking up and seeing Jason's face for a moment before everything went black—"

"See? It's what I told you, you emotionless asshole! And I would've done a better job at rescuing your bird if that _**pathetic piece of meat**_ you **replaced** me with—" Red Hood continued, now turning his glare to the third Robin of their flock who had his leg on a cast and was leaning against Batgirl at the current moment; the fierce look received from that cold gaze beneath the white lenses of the Red Robin's cowl did nothing to his skin, though Jason would never admit to anyone the Restaurant Boy had made some distinguishable improvements on that stare of his, "would have been kept on a _leash_ and out of the way!"

Night-Robin upturned his glare at his predecessor as well, aiming a well glower through the whites of his mask as he finished his strut towards his "oldest" brother.

"Black Bat," Batman acknowledged before more damaged was dealt—he should have expected his children to take so much time from following the second one of his line, "take Red Robin, Batgirl and Night-Robin to the Cave with you." He spoke to the woman; no doubt flickering inside his mind of the absolute obedience his daughter would deem.

"**What?"** Night-Robin growled outraged, and the hand of Black Bat above his shoulder stopped him from uttering more.

"We should take Dick with us Batman." Red Robin added his piece with no hostility on his tone but a clear coldness that spoke only of frigid logic, "it's not safe for him to stay this long. Reports of—"

"It's an _order_ Red Robin."

"You can order Drake all you want around father, but if Grayson stays then I do too—"

"After all your failed recent assignments and your low capability to follow orders I doubt—"

"You're one to talk **Restaurant Boy**—"

"Guys, take it easy—"

"Shut up Fatgirl—its none of your business, you weren't even here—"

"Now wait just a moment you little—"

"This is absurd, obviously none of you can handle this, and I will not go without having my say in this—"

"You're a kid Damian—you're not even legal."

"**Shut-up Drake,** that has hardly any value in here."

Dick growled deep inside his throat, aggravated at how the upturn of the early morning could go south that fast by something so petty.

"Whatever Babybird—"

"Don't call me that Todd—!"

"—we should let Golden Boy here rest,"

"Hate to agree with Jason, but you need to rest Dick; do you need anything? I can help you clean-up—"

"Nonsense, Drake. I'll assist Grayson and spare him your incompetent dangerous handling—"

"This isn't about you brat. It's about Dick—"

"Exactly Replacement, so crawl back to your basement and stalk someone else, we—"

"What's the matter Drake? Jealous you won't grow a few more centimeter—"

"_**That's enough!" **_ Bruce finally growled, having had his fill with all the boy's voices and was about to make some things very clear. "This behavior is completely unacceptable and unbecoming of the one's I've trained for years. Your lack in composure and following orders makes all of you a shame and consequently a hazard to what we do to keep the people safe. This space belongs to one of the Heads on Gotham, and it's imperative you follow orders instead of making the situation perilous for all of those involved."

"Screw you—"

"And I've had** enough** of your **mouth**." Batman got into his second eldest's son space, putting those few centimeters he had on the younger male to good use. "I don't care if I have to beat you senseless to make you understand—"

"Quiet." Black Bat whispered silently and took the youngest of their group into her crouch on the roof; the others following her lead by natural instinct with Batgirl aiding the injured Red Robin. The group waited, the training received making it easy to avoid unrequested noises at the same moment they all catched scratchy voices down below.

"_You hear anythin' now?" _ One of the guards holding a big arm spoke deriding to another one.

"_Guess not—funny, coulda swore someone was hissing 'ere." _The other part countered completely confused.

"_You'll be the one tellin' that to the Boss—he ain't in no mood to play right now and I sure as hell won't tell him shit!"_

"_Shit, now fucking way!" _Kept talking the other one; their voices fading as they went back to the way they came from and only minutes later did the Bats relaxed. Sure they weren't caught.

"This is the problem with you guys," Dick was the first to make his claim resonate, smiling briefly at his sister who had maintained the most semblance out of all those involved. He was done with trying to reason with his family. This time, he would have his word put in, and then he'd get out.

There was much to do for him on the outside.

* * *

><p>(1) For better understanding in here I'm using Gotham City's Map from the Volumes (first one) of the Novels of "No Man's Land" drawn by Elliot R. Brown on the very first page. It's number (6) on the map. I'll put a colored version of the City's divisions on my Deviant Page for better references shortly.<p>

(2) Map from Batman: No Man's Land Volume 1 again. This District belongs to Harvey Dent.

(3) Check "Robin Annual 04 of 1995". Great issue featuring Dick's origin where we see him living on the Juvenile Center for a Month and after attempting to escape through the chimney and arriving there, he faces Batman on the roof, just-by the chimney. Since Bruce is more Batman than his other persona as we all know, figures this would be their actual first encounter, so in here it is.

(4) If you actually look that Issue, Dick had problems with the kids in there and fought back, relaying how he'd pick more than a few things since his early life, but that this was a whole new league, so he's shown taking a beating and having a parch on his left eye with many bandages when he sees Batman that night. Incidental or not? *smirks*

(5) Another reference "text-base" from the issue aforementioned.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__Okay, running on time now, so hopefully everything was somewhat explicit. I'll repeat again that there's an added Timeline for this story brief of all events relayed so far in chronological order in my profile if anyone needs it. Oh, and a list of some of the important heroes that are dead on the Bat's data._

_Anon, how I've missed you, and have to say it's been mortifying delaying this chapter for so long-hopefully you had a liking to it. Now, as for my response *grins*, actually typed it when I read it the first time. Been dying to let you know it.  
>Hey, it's actually a pretty good thing that you're doing so; keeps you organized and attentive of details that you know I love to give. *Nods* True, very true. I'm loving how well you worded Tim's follow-up on Dick and actually made a little comment in here about that too, also that it elicits a surprise from you all the Biological Warfare again. Hey, it was their only choice, later you'll see more of it *smirks*. Thanks, it's really something nice that you take notice from, because the reality of the things is that the Bat family can only relate to each other for those things they deal with—like one time Dick told Superman about him forgetting to help the people on a day-to-day basis just because they're not part of the big picture.<br>Same here; heritage is important, and being proud of it too—like this proud born and raised Mexican gal *smirks*.  
>Sorry to disappoint Anon, in the memory she is MIA, but right now present time she is, in fact dead. It hurts, I know. *Snorts* Its very enjoyable to see how your mind works with those infinite possibilities by one sentence or various. Gives me great pride in knowing you're really dwelling deeper into the story, since I actually have yet to give any spoiler at all.<br>Yeah, but just remember what Dick told Tim. Poor indeed. Definitely do; he was a prodigy child for something, nice to see you share it also. *Smirks* I got two favorites, care to guess? Yep, sums Bruce in a nutshell, and of course they can all count on Dick. *Snorts* Homunculus is going to be a word you'll keep seeing popping here whenever Tim and Damian are concerned, *grins*.  
>He can't help but feel so, but just so you know, he has grown up a lot since that.<br>Cookie for you Anon, that's right on Dick's part—gives me so much joy someone understands it as well *slaps back grinning*.  
>*Snorts* That involuntary fidget is one of the first true glimpses of the romance part. Proud you pinpointed it. Do enjoy~ Okay, in here Tim wished he had his mask on and he didn't, so your dreams came true Anon. And that makes me breathe in relief, his speech just came so naturally. Exactly, Dick and Tim share almost no secrets. *Smirks proud* Another cookie for finding the other romance reference of the breath back Anon. Is it bad that I can't hold my smirk off my face? I'll leave you in the dark with this, so take advantage of that and stick to that headcanon-which may be or not true.<br>I just love teasing you *smirks*.  
>Hm, aggressive huh? Well, you have to understand he is pretty young when that happens…<br>That once more makes me inhale in relaxation at it. *Snorts* Stick to your headcanon—stick to your headcanon.  
>Thanks, that was what I was aiming towards with the whole flashback interaction—considering it was one of the last times they both saw each other before the gypsy's big end. It means a lot that you consider so. Hey, I happen to like that you list everything you love *grins*. Reassures my work is done properly.<br>Sure you do, and after what came in here I'm hoping you still hang into the idea. Alfred's the Patriarch of the Family, hell yeah. Giving you another cookie for noticing that detail of their interaction with the codes. You're on fire *grins*. In this case she was controlling her crying because there was just too many bottled-up feelings that came with Dick's sudden return that will be addressed later, so in the mix of everything, she felt she needed to control herself to breath and ask Alfred the medical assistance, 'cause if she didn't she would have probably cried herself to a point where she wouldn't be able to stop now. Her own flashbacks and parts will be given, worry not. Alfred's part was actually one of the hardest I came to write simply because it gave me so much constrained emotions that rendered me feeling awful for him but loving him even more—that's where my catharsis appeared, because the character went o a lose when I wrote and it just flowed without a pause into that beautiful part regarding him and his action with the touches and cleanness… it really gets to me that you like how I write him, since he's such an awesome character that I love so much, so thank you. Also, you got another cookie for the details of Cass and Alfred, and the one of the sheets and Dick's part with Alfred never being alone again that you mentioned.  
>Yep, they know. I just love everything you're saying about Titans, considering my love and utter adoration for the five original ones (dammit DC *glares*). <em>Totally_ kicking their butts. Glad you remember it, have two cookies for that one. The importance of him being his idol will be discussed shortly, worry not. More than necessary, Fab Five tells you everything; it's the last good-bye they need to give them. Its okay Anon *pats back*, that part was meant to cause something of that effect, and it swells my chest that you feel that strong a connection with this. You'll see what happens in with the twins in this one—well, what _happened._ Past, present, later. *Nods grinning* Exactly, it'd be too hard for him after so many attempts and he'd just go with that option to avoid that type of ache. Yes, figured Wally wouldn't know what to do with all that much emotion within him and the impact that gives from someone so open. _That information _is being held for better purposes. Later on *smirks*.  
>In here it explains they ran for a big disagreement that involved all. So there you go. Tim will only continue to do so more now that he's grow—but Dick's here now, so he can do something about it. *Snorts* Giggle? *Snorts louder* That's a good one! I'll remember it. She's badass. Cassandra Cain. An issue actually depicts that with Tim asking her how she does it and she has a flashback with her biological father shooting at her at a young age. Nothing beats Cassandra Cain-Wayne, plus she's too good as a person to have that. He needs to do a semblance of that—I love their interaction, and she <em>is _his only _daughter. _Not exactly have tea right now, but yes, they have an unbreakable bond (think I mention it here or on the other part).  
>Half-made explanations. This story seems larger every time I write something. Criminals of Class (*snorts* can't say I don't approve…).<br>That's a relief—like your expression by the way: devour. Will keep it for references *smirks*. It does have its benefits, what can I say—at least most of the time it does *shakes hand away*. Oh man, I hope you continue thinking so, got a feeling with my new work hours that'll be the case. Sure as hell they won't. And word of advice, Dinah fools almost everyone, have a look-out for that one *smirks with mischief*. They will come later on, I assure you. *Snickers* Absolutely. But that means you and I get along enough to confess it to you freely Anon, so kudos~ *Snorts* Really? Hmm, then I do feel honored to invoke such a reaction. Twice *smirks*. You do that quite a lot actually. A lot. Thanks, that's something that just seems natural with his character, since Dick is just too rich as a person to avoid doing so. You'll see more Dick and Cass on the next installments I'm sure—got some matters for them both and only them alone. I'm sure you'll love them. Vicious circle indeed, but I'm afraid I cannot break it for you. Though if you make the connections…  
>Will use that one then *grins*, and yes, I'll do. And please, if I ever don't do tell me; this type of feedback is what I like, and it just inspires me when you say so. *Grins Cheshire cat so* Really? Man, that's awesome! Serious? Wicked dude~! Hopefully you'll stick with that idea.<br>P.S. Give yourself time, I'm pretty sure you are—not like I give major hints, and the offer is still available for now.  
>Not a spoiler given-answer. *Smirks* So for now, yep.<br>Later!_

_Questions, constructive criticism and comments are always appreciated._

_Thank you to all those who read, leave reviews, and/or put this story on their favorites or alert list._


	12. The Secret of Gotham City's Inmates PII

_**Author's Notes: **__Will make this short and simple: April was crappy. May was no less crappy than the aforementioned. Rest my case.  
>Also, this one is pretty heavy on comic events, you'll find the references on the points below as per usual, but I do focus on the latest issues that came before the reboot was announced, and don't actually change the events, but took blank spaces to fill them out. Also some way behind the comics like "Robin: Year One" and "Batman Annual 25". Timeline should be uploaded shortly with it, and new pics updated. Special shout-out to my friend Soph who drew an spectacular picture of Dick on his hospital garbs. Cannot thank you enough for your support Soph. Enjoy this. If anyone is curious I'll put a link on the gift at the compilation on my profile.<br>__**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Slight Slash on Flashback (you can skip it, but it's on a pretty important scene, so you're forewarned), foul language, Angst, non-explicit Violence, and mentions of gore, death and perversions of Prof. Pyg._

_Tuesday May 22nd, 2012- Edited/Wrapped on Thursday May 31st, 2012 Words: 16,711  
><em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XII.- The Secret of Gotham City's Inmates. Part II_

_~-05:22hrs. Abandoned Juvenile Center, Old Gotham District, Gotham City._

"**This** right here is the problem with **all** of you—you've known each other practically for more than a _decade_ and you still have this _stupid nonsense stop you?_ Jason," he chastised, glancing at the older man standing fiercely on the roof near him, "look, we get it—you _died;_ you died and Bruce went through some bad times and you came back blowing mob's heads off and saw Tim and thought he was over you when he wasn't. I _understand_ to an extent how you may feel about the whole dying part okay? But frankly it's been far too long and it's just ridiculous how none of you can see past all that went through and just get on with life." He took a deep breath, glaring at the frustration he felt eating him alive at such stupid interactions, his voice steady in his down-to-earth nature. "Bruce, in this World where you even went to the point of making the **most difficult decision** of having _real people_ live inside an Asylum where all the most dangerous criminals we've ever known were _incarcerated_ before, it's beyond all reason why you _still_ cannot register that Jason's methods are acceptable to the extent where he is your _family. _In fact, none of you seem to can." He looked up at Tim, who avoided his accusatory gaze by dropping his chin slightly to his left side.

He would be two-faced if he tried to trick himself that it didn't disappoint him a little. Tim was supposed to be the most grounded—**rational **of their group.

But 'suppose' doesn't really exist does it.

"Expected more from you too Tim—you are the logical one in here. You must at least have acknowledged surrender to forgiveness as the better option out of everyone in here: be the bigger person." The acrobat muttered letting his disillusionment fill out in the bitter air; the cringe on the third Robin's shoulders almost invisible to his scrutinizing.

Almost.

"Even with the history you two guys share, it's still a priority on this time to let those actions go and start anew." He licked his chapped lips behind the oxygen mask, blue orb flickering from one comrade to another of their assembly. "Hell, we've all needed second chances in here—all done something we regret and can never take back; something that brings shame because we have all been at our worst on some point of this road." The child let his eyebrows furrow a little at his plea. "…so why can't you forgive and let go…? Why can't you understand you guys _need_ each other—you're all that is left." Dick said with frustration, shoving his hand through his locks.

His stare flickered back to Bruce, fire restarted at the permanent scowl that had made itself more distinct on the Bat.

"And you know what?" The youngster asked rhetorically, regaining the last topic that regarded the Wayne patriarch, positive the man would follow. "You do it every time with everyone that's trying to help you out. How can you dismiss everyone except the three of us when none of them are children anymore—if anything I should be the one getting the boot on my royal behind!" He almost yelled in hissing tones, exasperated at their relentless and rigid features; they were supposed to at least look abashed at the scolding, and it broke his hopes if by a fraction seeing they had no much room for regret on their dispositions to change their demeanors.

"What type of example are you showing your son, Bruce?" He raised his hand in a gesture fashion. "Get any idea why Cass needs to be the mediator from what little you've shown so far?"

At that Damian cringed; teeth flaring red and about to dispose of the insult from his big brother.

"I'll have you know Grayson, the example I've taken has little to do with Father and his ways, or mistaking Cain's weakness for keeping a semblance of tranquility that disposes Drake's ineptitude for Father's behalf." Night-Robin retorted hotly; the necessity for making his role model see he was the only grounded adult of the group his utmost priority.

"Its Cass; and you should show more respect to someone who's been taking care of you with so little in return and use her as an example of living, Damian. So as Steph." Dick was short, temper intact as he left the teen wordless from his frigid response and the Wayne woman trembling only faintly at his words. "Tim is your brother, whether you like it or not doesn't change the fact, and he is far from inept at that." His leveled gaze went to the injured bird when he said that, resting in his features held by the blonde woman; unsympathetic. "Even if his sentiments regarding his own kin show otherwise." Was the wrapping of his blow to both brunettes. The two of the aforementioned feeling it hard.

"And newsflash? Jason's telling you the truth. We don't even know what happened in here, last I checked I was in the suit and felt that bullet go straight right here—" he kept speaking, touching the space where a mark had been left behind of that event that had ended his life, "—before red and black became all in and out. All this is just stupid and _childish_ and you've lost focus on the things that matter just because your damn prides are still on the line for something you should have gotten over with years ago." He huffed, grumbling under his breath and resisting the urge to pace and just attend the tensed bodies surrounding him.

"Shit, if all of you had just stuck together maybe the War wouldn't have continued up until now—but we'll never know because you're all too stubborn to try and actually _tolerate _each other, much less _like_, to do so." The carnie scoffed, removing the giant clothes unsurprised at the elicited gasps and wide eyes summing his figure, "So shut up, take it like a man, and stop all this constant bullshit flying around. It's not fair for Cass, or Steph who was kind enough to come back and help you, plus, it gets annoying, **and fast**." Was his last sentence before he plastered a familiar domino mask over his eyes and threw himself over the building from the chimney with abandon; relishing in the sensation before an arm caught him along with a gruff countenance and he had to sigh in barely restrained aggravation when he was hidden on another ceiling after the grappling hook touched that particular gargoyle up above the ground.

Red Robin had him around his middle—his touch careful and secure, but Dick was past annoyance to register much.

"You shouldn't do that," came Tim's low whisper over his dark hair, "you are recovering from—"

"It doesn't hurt anymore." The Boy Wonder cut the caring words, crossing his arms and disentangling himself once his naked feet touched ground. "And no offense Timmy, but I can hold my own better than you kids think, so don't patronize jus' cause the image doesn't fit the actual model."

"At least let us take you to see someone that might help," Batman's voice came with the wind; his kinfolk around him.

"Who?" Dick asked looking at the Bat. The others behind him tense. "Alfred gave the okay already."

"Not Alfred," Batman answered and the boy sighed when his sister gave him the clothes to cover himself once anew.

* * *

><p><em>~-05:49hrs. Medical Facility, Arkham West, Arkham Asylum <em>(1)_, Gotham._

"What's the diagnostic?"

Doctor Leslie Thompkins heard once she closed the security door of the Patient Observation chambers of the Medical Facility at Arkham West in the Asylum and closing the door of the control room to have the privacy Batman wanted while the child changed back.

"I'm not sure Bruce—the boy shouldn't even be alive to begin with. It's either a medical miracle or an unfortunate case; in any manner he doesn't show much feeling on his spine, but that won't be a major issue since he can still operate his limbs correctly." She shook her head, unsure of what she just saw. "Most of his scars are too old—more than his age which is impossible, and something happened to his vertebrae that made it black, but there's no virus the scans catched or any infection, in view of the fact that that would have killed him on the spot."

"The ends of his skin are pulsing red."

"Yes." Leslie nodded massaging her temples and removing her glasses momentarily. "That's because the skin was sewn to his muscles—found the stitches—to just show his vertebrae and not the rest of his back muscles like the Trapezius or the Semispinalis capitis etcetera," she kept explaining, shaking her head in revulsion, "otherwise his back would have been torn apart the moment he made any pressure or moved a fraction. It's also pulsing because it's unnatural—it's like his body is constantly fighting an infection and every time he moves, he adds pressure that his skin and muscles cannot help but to resent."

"Hn."

"That's it? That's all you're going to say…?" She asked taken aback before sighing, "Shouldn't be surprised about it."

"Leslie, what about the transplant?" The vigilante asked, showing nothing and the Doctor crossed her arms at her benefactor raising an eyebrow and regaining some attitude lost over the passing springs.

"Unlikely." She responded curt, seizing her sight on the Bat. "The damage is, simply put, beyond repair." Then she took a firmer stance when the Detective made a move to protest. "Donor available or not Bruce, it's simply not possible. You would be left with Monocular Blindness to have the child remorse that and be the same too."

That left the Bat with a sour taste on his mouth, but he kept on—relentless.

"Skin could be reattached to his back to cover and protect his spine; you can take from my legs—"

"**No."** Leslie put on irritated. "There's no way to tell if an infection could spur because we messed with something we don't know. Unfortunately we can't fix it unless you find exactly what was done to him to counter with the appropriate measures; and even then it's a long shot." She sighed, reasserting her glasses by the rim on her nose. "He is safe, alive and breathing… isn't that enough?" She asked dejectedly watching the man intensely.

"… no…"

* * *

><p>"It changes nothing you know?" Dick told the Bat good-naturally exiting the Patient Observation chambers. "We wear masks all the time Bruce—"<p>

"You're not going back to the field." His father told him decisively, taking him slightly aback. "We have yet much to learn from where you've been and tossing you back is not the solution. We need to be discreet and covert about this."

"… you're right; guess Alfred will have to share his space with me for a while."

"He won't mind." Bruce responded with no hesitation on his mind, placing tentatively one of his hands above the acrobat's shoulder who nodded if a little dejected at the same instance; upturning the corners of his lips faintly at the welcomed touch as they made their way through a hidden passage to exit the Medical Wing and go underground the Asylum towards their cave,

"… yeah, guess he won't."

* * *

><p><em><strong>~-Flashback: 3 days after the events on the Quarantine in Gotham (<strong>**2)****, Year 2011. Unknown location, Gotham City-~**_

"_Who invited you here Golden Boy?" Jason growled, changing into a defensive position just a second before his voice to keep his aim steady at the unwelcomed sight of the raven haired in fancy elite garbs, who was standing in the middle of his crappy living room._

_He'd just finished unwrapping some petty gang from a sick whats-his-name Pyg (_3)_ guy, who were after some kids back at the Square Garden; remnants of the Quarantine's end days back. The taller man was in no mood to play with—least of all if it involved the Circus prodigy who was creeping him out in that coat and blue scarf just… standing…there. _

_His brow furrowed in irritation. The street rat would need to blow this place now; safe houses weren't easy to get, and at this rate he might need to start looking for better solutions that avoided moving from one place to another._

_Maybe take care of snooping assholes who insisted on him taking said measurements._

"_Needed to talk to you." The asshole said offhandedly as if he hadn't needed to break through his top-notch security to get inside in the first place. It made him bristle in contained aggravation; the trigger just waiting for the wrong word to escape the acrobat's lips and finish the bastard off. One could only dream anyhow. "Figured the invite was unnecessary." Dick kept speaking and underneath the leather gloves, he felt his fingers barely restrain themselves from pulling said trigger._

_Daddy Bats would not be amused, and the bat urchin's neither._

_He watched as the carnie took a look around with a sweep of his electric eyes; body unmoving and hands on the pockets of that high-society coat._

"_Nice place."_

_Jason 'tsked' his teeth in annoyance._

"_Yeah, spend every second improving it myself; was thinking to add some flowers here and there to make it more homey, but Ivy's influence has rubbed off in all the wrong places if ya know what I mean." He spoke sarcastically, taking special care to sweep a calculating gaze to the elder of the two from feet to head; scrutinizing him for a better look at any possible weapon the man before him could use in his cheap apartment. There was a silent threat he gave his predecessor with that rummage of his blue eyes that held a tint of green in them when the light was just right: a warning the gypsy heard loud and clear, for that jaw clenched and those eyebrows creased if only a little before minutely closing those blue gates and sighing tiredly._

_It threw him of a loop if he were to be sincere with the man in civvies. By this point the acrobat had either made his point in reestablishing the middle child into their circle or both were trying to hurt themselves in all the wrong ways possible—attempting to let all those aggravations at not accomplishing anything in their fucked up characters with violence and promises of helping one another. Empty promises on Dick's end that Jason knew all too well and only got him more upset, serving to fuel his anger at false hopes the older prayed and advocated._

_Just fighting to let the steam off from both._

"_Don't want to fight you Jason," He heard Dick speak with that same tired voice that had him conflicted in the first place, and Jason couldn't stop the eye roll at hand; of course the prick would know exactly what he was thinking. Then, Dick looked up at him, continuing and bluntly ignoring his personal demonstration of nuisance, "but what I'm about to say to you is more delicate than you might imagine, so I really need you to please calm down and listen before you get any other ideas in your head." Jason watched the older male talk, neither one moving from their spots, and he saw the decision in those unmistakable lightning orbs emphasized, _"Please."_ He heard the other repeat in a strong baritone and scoffing he placed his gun on his holster at his right thigh._

"_Make it quick. Got stuff to do and some clean up after your little fiasco with the Demon brat." He alleged, crossing his arms and waiting. It was odd to find relief in the brief lack of tension from his brother's back at his words, accompanied with a little smile regarding the spawn of the Demon._

_He rolled his eyes again, _'Figures only _he_ can withstand such an annoying little shit.' _Jason thought somewhat amused, waiting for the first-born of their messed up crew to speak his mind and then get out. Maybe Park Row was a good option for now?_

"_Shush," The acrobat spoke, Jason recognizing the warm affection behind that tame tone, "He's learning."_

"_Not fast enough if you want to avoid a repeat performance." Jason scoffed hard, turning his head by only a fraction and enjoying throughout the strain regained in the acrobat's shoulders. He couldn't avoid it, really; it was just too easy when the others practically set the motion on their words to simply spat cynically in return._

"_That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid here," The youngest of the two heard the other answer, and his interest perked in amusement, following immediately the line of thought from said man; his strong eyebrow raising in hilarity. Oh, did he now?_

"_So you're basically saying you're here to save me from hittin' the bucket again?" Jason mocked the first bird, rejoicing each syllable for what it was while barking a big laugh at the end of his sentence for good measure. Oh shit, this was soooo gooood. "Oh Dickiebird, you shouldn't have~!"_

_It seemed, however, his so self proclaimed 'sibling' wasn't in the mood for anything—uncanny, yeah—and creased his raven eyebrows more in response. Jason wasn't exactly sure what to think of that._

"_It's not a laughing matter Jason. Look, I'll be blunt here with you; figures it be the only way to settle things, so here it goes," Dick spoke to him, taking a breath before appearing to look nervous for a brief second about something that only made him roll his eyes again and gesture with his leather-clad hands to the older vigilante to get out with it, "you might want to sit down; it's pretty shocking news—trust me." _

_He just scoffed to his side._

"_I thought you said you'd be blunt, so spit it out Golden Boy." He talked back, and the hardened jaw on the elder made him regret his lexis instantly, but Jason Todd wasn't about to start backing out from his words now._

"_Bruce is back."_

_The second who had donned the Robin mantle felt his eyes grow to saucers at the sentence._

_Talk about blunt._

_He shook his head, white pearls gritting and then releasing a sadistic smile at his forerunner._

"_Figures the Big-bad-Bat wouldn't stay dead for long. How much was it? Six months—a year maybe? Doesn't matter. Fucking bastard; of course he wouldn't stay dead for long." He couldn't help but ramble again, avoiding the first one's gaze and turning his back; the conversation over and done with in what respected him. "Okay, thanks for the heads up Dickie—you know where the door is, or window, whatever—"_

"—_that's not all of it. It's really only the catalyst of what's going to happen now." His brother interrupted his rambling with no alteration on his baritone and Jason turned mildly, about to give him the finger and tell him to fuck off, but, as it was expected (fucking prick), the other one probably knew of it and just kept rambling. "You see, it turns out that Bruce was never dead—not really anyways; long-story-short he got lost in Time and just recently came back thanks to the League and Tim _(4)_," At that Jason growled deep in his chest: as if he needed _more_ reasons to hate the pussy ass Replacement. Whether Dick decided to ignore his antic or not he wasn't able to tell, "he was mostly on the past, but caught glimpse of the future." Jason saw those eyebrows twitch in worry and his interest became pointed again, rotating fully to face the acrobat speaking. "… it's not good Jays,"_

_Bulls-eye. His eyes glinted that lost green in them at his nickname (well, Dick had given him more than one, but still), mouth in a tight line._

"_A war's looming by, and we have only so much time to prepare ourselves for it. Bruce is taking measures on this as we speak—hence the monkey suit beneath this," Jason heard the god forsaken awful crack Dick attempted, opening slightly his coat to reveal a black suit with black tie and fancy white shirt included, "we're going to need all the help we can get to deal with this and come out with the least amount of casualties."_

"_Really now? Can't suppose the old man might even go global on this, right?" He derided the gypsy at the ridiculous notion the male was implying—but Dick only grinned weakly in return, taking a gasp out of him at that. "You gotta be kiddin',"_ _Jason spoke in disbelief, receiving an almost imperceptible nod from Dick at that._

"_Batman Incorporated." Then the man shrugged a little his shoulders, actions that weren't unnoticed by him; the carnie had been less than favoring of his spine, barely making any movements with his head or neck. He'd heard rumors but…_

"'_Batman Inc.'… seriously?" He asked in dead tones instead, because it was a lot less personal than asking what had happened to the gypsy; to verify something that he heard had happened to him. "So what's he gonna do? Start handing Batman suits to every poor bastard that crosses his pathologically obsessive paranoid path?" Another scoff, "Next thing you know he might as well tell the world he's the Goddamn Batman."_

"_Well,…" Dick started, and Jason had to swallow his frustrated choke at what that implied; the shock quite an understatement, "it's not exactly like that, but hey, you do know him and get the drill. He's going to be travelling the World," Jason saw the acrobat move his right hand in accordance with his speech, "placing his designated Batman Incorporated operatives on specific points we are all trying to define to fight against Leviathan—that's the new enemy's name by the way—and about spilling out his secret…" He saw Dick trail off, once more shifting his eyes instead of his whole head to his right briefly before locking his sight on his own, "he has a plan about it; when does he not?" Jason saw the other speak amused with a slight perk on the corner of his lips, "It's today actually, we're all going to be there when he announces to the press that he—Bruce Wayne—is the one that has been sponsoring Batman for what happened to his parents all this years and will now provide a new service of justice to more men and women with the same ideals." Another light shrug from Dick, but Jason's mind was almost blown away at the news so far. "Okay, _almost _all." The Golden Boy rectified himself and had him watching him closely. "That's another reason why I'm here. Jason, you're part of this." And just like that, he felt himself become guarded again; closing his jaw and turning his hands into fists. _

"Shut up."_ He bit out, not up for this kind of shit from Dick._

"_Not going to force you to come, but it's important that you at least hear it out with the crowd if not at the stage with us. We will need to face this thing together if we want to get out alive, because this will come after all of us Jason, and you won't be able to survive on your own." The middle child snarled at that. "Let me help you." And Jason could hear such plead in the undertones of the elder's voice that the same sick feeling he had always associated with Dick came back haunting him; tormenting him at wanting something he could not have again._

"_You do what you're supposed to do; I'll find a way to manage by myself—_as usual._ 'Sides, it's not my problem what happens to you assholes. Not part of your goody-goody group." He answered at the beseech, avoiding the other's stare at his face. It was for the best. Jason had always managed things on his own, he would stick with it and keep doing that. He'd get by; always had._

_Ya know, except with that death thing, whatever._

"… _here." Dick said making him put his sight on the object being handed to him without the circus freak moving from his designated spot since he came into his apartment; the street-rat might not have an extensive detail of fancy shit like Bruce was used to portray, but he'd lived his fair share of years with the man and had also dealt with scumbags from the high Elite, so he knew of important brands when he saw them, and that 'Emporio Armani' watch the carnie was offering, while it wasn't exactly new on the market, was nonetheless pretty expensive._

_And used._

_By Dick himself._

…

_Jason wasn't sure what to think of that._

"_Just take it Jays, it won't bite."_

_Reluctantly, by his hurt ego, he took some steps and skeptically turned over the offered item on his hand, giving it a studious inspection from the platinum links forming the chain, to the black and electric blue dial with the meccanico style broadcasting the cogs of the watch on the inside, yet still able to maintain a sports and classic look overall. It was pretty awesome if he were one to speak; obviously Daddy Bats had this piece of machinery made especially for the bird offering it here. Why else would it reflect what Dick might be like so outstandingly?_

_He had always had a special affinity to the time keepers—reminiscent of his time as a street imp with slender fingers and a good eye for a highly valued watch that guaranteed a good amount of chili's for weeks._

"_It's a pretty cool watch Dickiebird, but you might need to work on your incentives here." When he got no response other than that bland look the other kept glued to him he turned the device once more; continuing his inspection with silence._

"…_might go with it for a kiss." He added with a dangerous smirk to his features, levering his eyes instinctively, unable to help his treacherous tongue and cursing inside his head not a second afterwards._

_He was so not going there tonight._

… _Fuck it, he needed a beer now._

_Not showing much—the bastard—Dick just upturned a little the corners of his lips._

'Make that a six,'_ he thought at the gesture that obviously meant _nothing_ but the elder trolling him around, procuring to hide the flush he felt going into his head at his stupidity (because that was the only excuse for him to feel so hot suddenly; men did not blush—and Jason was certainly a manly man at that)._

_Dick just signaled with his index finger one of the clogs that was the skeletons of the watch as if nothing had happened. Because for the bastard it probably hadn't._

_Stupid Dick; messing with his head._

"_Now press the cog in the left," and Jason did so if just to ignore his latest comment, blinking owlishly for a fraction at the blue holograms popping out of the artifact and reflecting a bat-fancy-like screen at his face height. The whistle following this upturn in technology was inevitable, and soon he regained his serious façade, testing the computer-like hologram to find it was basically that; sensitive to touch, seemingly as quick as the Batcomputer on the Cave and with just about everything he searched for, "it has a duplication of the system in the Batcave; holds all information and can pretty much pass as a identical replica of the Batcomputer, minus Bruce's security codes—though you can try to hack the one's I haven't have the time to decode yet." Jason listened the other continue with his explanation and stopped his prying, watching the oldest of their flock carefully._

"_Sweet," He conceding before adding, "but it's still not enough to join your pathetic excuse for a campaign. Keep the gift Golden Boy." The leftover vigilante spoke without emotion attached on his lines, handing back the precious manufactured article._

_Dick didn't even spare it a glance though._

"_Just keep it Jason." The asshole said, and before he could interrupt him, continued without removing those electric eyeballs from his own. "You might find use for it in the future, and it'll be good to make you remember I'm always there for you. _Even_ when you don't want me to be." And those words struck him in more ways than he would ever let himself dwell over. "Gotta go now; press conference starts in an hour and Damian wasn't keen on wearing formal shoes to it _(5)_." The gypsy went back to the subtle amicable tones, buttoning up the coat to cover his garbs and straightened his blue scarf that oh so matched his unmistakable eyes. "Later Jays, will be contacting you with updates as they come." And with that, the first Robin walked past him, waving a hand without turning around to face him._

"_Ya know—it was pretty fuckin' stupid Dick," he patronized the other one, watching that lithe back freeze at his scolding from his periphery, and then Jason _**just knew,**_ and he rounded to stare intensely at the bastard's head covered by the scarf, "let the brat dictate the terms knowing all along that what's-his-face _(6)_ was a bigger threat and _then_ letting him shot you in the brains_7_." Jason spat out, anger boiling at the tension increasing upon the acrobat's back muscles. "So the rumors were true," he spoke condescending, "serves you right for stickin' to your fuckin' rules, hopefully next time you see a bullet aimed at your ass you'll discern right from wrong or just fuckin' die for your own lame-ass stupidity." He bit out, intending to hurt the older with his harsh reproach._

_It had scared him; he kept denying himself strong and constantly of it. That his brother, the one who he was left to fill those big-ass shoes for—the lone person who had consistently offered him a second chance no matter their bad way to start their relationship at the very beginning, had reduced himself to fall prey to a lower piece of the chess peons on the game just because he'd preferred to give his own life instead of taking one. _

_Dick had just waved back at him, avoiding to turn to face him yet again in this visit and went out from the door; leaving him with the relic at hand and a constricted throat at that._

_An hour later he listened the speech of Batman Inc. alright, all the while knowing of those blue eyes searching over him within the insides of the crowd—mindful of his head movements, and Jason only bristled angrily; the platinum metal now adorning his left hand burning his skin._

_Next time the asshole just better up and die; served him right for not distinguishing priorities. He would not know how much regret and despair he would deem on the following months from when those thoughts had surged; all at the sight of his brother's massacre he witnessed on the same piece the gypsy had provided and kept him informed with on Leviathan's rising so far._

* * *

><p><em>~-06:01hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"Jays," Dick spoke appearing out of the blue next to his brother's back by the cave's fourth exit, surprising the middle child by emerging out of nowhere; he was able to tell by the slight flinch on his wrist holding the cigarette to his mouth, even when his stubborn sibling would never admit it.

"**What?"** Jason answered sore with the aftereffects on the chat by Dent's District a couple of hours ago all the while avoiding the Golden Boy's stare. "You ain't done patronizin' the shit outta me?"

Dick raised an eyebrow at the hurt tone hidden beneath annoyance and shook his head, striding in front of the older male.

"Figured you got the point already," He said with his usual humor to lighten up his successor of the cape he kept underneath Bruce's enormous clothes, "besides, you had it coming—you did acted like an ass out there. And you told me the 'F' word back when we arrived too."

Jason snorted, smoking some more and staring out into the blackness; couldn't a man smoke in peace for a goddamn second?

"You're going to stay here," The carnie told him matter-of-factly, noticing the stutter and subsequent coughing when the male had tried to inhale some nicotine, still, he continued unaffected, "have to leave this place and search for the other end."

"**And?** You think you're doing it _solo?_—that's _our_ mission Dickiebird." The second Robin snarled tossing the nearly lighted addiction to someplace away.

"Exactly, but Bruce and the others will add one plus one and get two." He crossed his tiny arms, façade of the leader he was born to be. "If you go first there's no way they'll let me get away that easily without setting a transmitter like before; it's now or never before things start getting serious. _Then_ you can leave before you succumb to your urges to kill them all." He added with a good mount full of sarcasm, rolling his eyes for good measure at their immature antics.

_Family._

He'd deal with them along the way—preferably when things settled a little more and the suspicion on Jason's side (very justifiable and one hundred percent true) quelled down by the apparent dismiss he made of said brother's side, and found more of his stance. It was perfect—okay, as perfect as they could get. He'd certainly miss them, but who said there would be no surprise visits along the way?

Jason's left-eye twitched in irritation at the infallible logic. Who had said this was going to end-up badly? Who? Oh yes—_**he**__ had._

"For _how long? _Let's not forget you tend to get _episodic_ from time to time." The rogue vigilante returned just as cynical, aiming straight at his brother's weakness to shut him up where it hurt the most.

Dick's glare intensified and he took a step towards his now older sibling; stance dominant and assertive.

"_Watch it._ Or I'll give you the pounding you've been asking for _weeks."_ The acrobat hissed, sure the message was clear to the other raven when the jaw on said vigilante tensed and his shoulders squared, ready for an attack. "That's up to you—preferably a couple months before you turn tail and get outta here though." He finished, regaining his usual countenance like that blow and consequent response hadn't happened.

That's how they operated. Always had.

The twitch on the Red Hood persona increased.

"_Two __**fuckin' months—**__you shittin' me? How __**the fuck **__am I supposed to endure that much without turnin' the pussy-ass __**Replacement **__into __**mush?**__ You're __**fuckin'**__ crazy." _ Jason hissed at the end of his nerves. Didn't Golden Boy wanted the third bird alive? Wasn't that the whole point that got both of them caught in this mess in the first place? Trust Grayson to assume he'd be more than happy to oblige to that pathetic idea of reuniting their _"family"._

He'd done more than his fair share towards **that **thing (8) by now and for the rest of his shitty existence.

"**Tim, **is more than what you give him credit for, besides, you really think he will want to stay within your vicinity?" Dick said, then snorted incredulously, "Don't think too high of yourself Jason—he has issues with you too; it's not all just about you." He finished answering, letting the disappointment at their relationship show in his voice.

Jason muttered some curses in other foreign languages Dick knew all too well under his breath. He didn't care though; was the gypsy really that blind? Clenching his jaw into place and turning to step over the still burning cigarette he let out a hollow bark of laughter; he sure was back in the old days, and it just made his insides churn with that disgusted feeling he had always associated with the Original Boy Wonder, who even with all that wonder wasn't capable—_ever_—to see how much people sought him out; how much they wanted to be near him—_with _him. Jason knew this wasn't about him anymore; sure, he still had his resentment towards Bruce and Restaurant Boy, but this was about something else entirely.

_Someone _else entirely.

"Yeah, ain't that right," He spat with distaste, feeling the other raven coming closer, hence moving farther away from him.

"Jays, you know I didn't mean it like that,… right?" Dick asked, perceptive of the other vigilante's wound. "Was really gonna ask you to take care of Damian—I know how you included him in your future, let's say, "mellow" plans, while I'm gone." The lad kept saying, smiling and grabbing slightly the left forearm of the second bird. He couldn't help but think he'd have preferred to grab his shoulder instead, but given the circumstances he'd had to settle. "I trust you to do it, and you two have more in common that either gives credit for. It'd be good for you to spend some time with each other."

Jason raised an incredulous eyebrow at the boy, wondering if they had put him a gas mask when entering Gotham a minute too late.

"…you're kiddin' me, right?"

Dick mock-glared at him.

"…you know, even if you hadn't shot him twice in the past and then proceeded to beat him up too, I'd still say you like him more than you want to admit—"

"—which is _nothing—_"

"—so you'll be alright. Maybe you can try and approach Cass too—but later; much, **much** later." Dick added very seriously at the certain mischievous smirk that had appeared on Jason's mouth and with caution heavy on his latter words.

Jason's smirk only grew wider, raising an eyebrow while he bent slightly to be more in Dick's level at his left side—seriously, the kid was too fuckin' _small; _no wonder he didn't grew up much when he finally handed him the short pants.

"Oh, why's that? Figured if anyone could get along with 'yours truly' would be the Assassin playing House." He asked, amused at the situation and trying to gain one on his older brother.

Dick, of course, wasn't baited easily, and shrugged casually in response.

"Say all you want about Cass playing house, but she won't tolerate your bullshit like everyone else does: she'll castrate you before you get the idea of shooting her off." And the woman would do so if she found herself inclined to terminate the menace that was one Jason Todd to the family she had tried so hard to keep together afloat; Dick knew it, and he loved her the more for it. He just hoped Jason got the message beforehand to avoid provoking too-much the female Wayne.

"Pssh, she can _try, _Dickiebird; don't care 'bout her anyways," The red vigilante scoffed, recovering his stature and crossing his arms over his chest, closing the topic of the third Batgirl altogether.

Dick only grinned in success and slapped his brother on his lower back in boyish amity.

"Sure you don't Jaybird, sure you don't."

* * *

><p><em>~-06:51hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

This were the last steps, just some one more stops and then he'd move out of Gotham in a nutshell.

Maybe.

He did miss his family and was still contemplating the possibility of staying one more night just for good time's sake. Chat sometime with Timmy (the young man was yet to recover from the harsh tone he'd given him back when he'd jumped from the Juvenile Center), possibly get some hugs from him too while he was at it, that was always an added plus; then he wanted to look at the pictures from his niece, but he figured Jays could help him with that later, definitely providing the codes for the computer to hack it before he was caught.

He'd shared enough with Jason, and figured if he took another guarded step to approach the middle child he would get bitten and all they just accomplished and compromised to would be forgotten. Steph had granted him some bear hugs he was all too keen on taking, and they chatted for a while, the topic of Barbara a sore one for the blonde that he was careful to approach after some missteps, and had left the girl in better spirits after thanking her for coming back to Gotham to help Cass and the others.

Alfred had come back with him, saying he'd found some clothes that were better but the boy had dismissed the idea, saying he wasn't keen on changing for the moment, although the butler knew all too well he was just refusing to part with his father's textiles, instead drinking some tea while he helped the elder around the cave and joked about anything really; never again asking about anything else on the current timeline.

Bruce was different and yet so much the same; not lingering for more than half an hour on the Cave and double checking the security on the Asylum every chance he got (civilians had their lives to count for on those measures; the Asylum needed to be locked), and every time Dick attempted to approach him to renew his request that had been interrupted by Jason he found himself undone by the Bat and just searched for a new one.

Cass hadn't been around anymore, disappearing after he'd been taken to the Asylum to see Dr. Leslie to stand guard, which Dick thought was unfair—he wanted to spend some time with his sister before he left; that led to the last member of his family that refused to stand in his direction as anything else but a lurking shadow.

Dick rolled his eyes, tired of pretending to let those silent steps that had followed him all along (except with Jason—he'd made sure to lose the bird after "going to the bathroom" to avoid any unnecessary scenes with the youngest, (er, older?) bird) weren't there. He had been doing it for the sake of the teenager; obviously Damian was aching and having some troubles adjusting with this new scenario, so the carnie was being patient to let him make his own move when the other one felt comfortable enough to make himself known.

But he was taking too damn _long _to up and do it.

"Damian," he spoke, after leaving him lost by disappearing on the crevice near table filled with pieces of gunfire material, to appear behind the startled nightly robin, "I know you've been following me—pretty sure Alfred and Steph noticed you too." He said with an impish smile on his infantile features. "Not mad at you, you know?" the boy added more tranquil, enjoying the sudden flush on the tall teenager's cheeks at being caught.

"… you certainly have strange ways to show it Grayson," Damian muttered still in his nightly costume, and it made Dick wonder if he really meant that much to the kid to make him alter his persona so drastically.

It brought an unhealthy happiness and peace to his mind; he had clearly missed the kid too much.

"It's not like you were the only one at the end of the scold," He amended for the teen and when said youngster had a brighter tone of red on his cheeks Dick wasn't able to help himself; one back flip later he was perched on the fine line of the old chair by the disarmed textiles, amorously ruffling the spiky hair of the disheveled teen after getting rid of the hood.

"H-hey! Grayson! Cease that immediately!" Damian uttered, completely rigid, but made no move to remove himself from the spot.

Dick smiled at that, giving one last ruff on the vigilante's hair before leaving him be; it was quite comical to see the youngster made the slightest effort to put his locks back in place; almost as if he didn't wanted to erase the evidence from this event, but the titan didn't read much into it.

"So, tell me, how have you been doing?" He asked, trying to get something from the ex-assassin civilly now that the window had opened—so to speak.

"… Father is trying to contain the situation to regain terrain in the Battle camps; of course he seems me as the most capable one and provides me with the most dangerous missions as expected." Night-Robin says matter of fact, arrogance shining on his grown tenor, and the acrobat furrows his eyebrows in distaste at the news, his mouth line in a light scowl that doesn't go unnoticed by the older of the two. "_What?" _The biological Wayne asks defensively at the expression on his only sibling. "You trained me Grayson, we were partners before—" he cuts himself, unable to fill his sentence and just decides to move on, "you must know my brilliant skills could only hone to perfection as time went by." The sixteen year-old finally finishes, crossing his arms over his chest; awkward at the face the child kept glued on him. _"Stop_ looking at me like that!—Say something!" He growls self-conscious and whirling away.

"…" Dick says nothing, instead, shaking his head, and placing a more docile hold on the top of the other raven's crown, smiling serene, "yeah, we sure were; definitely sounds like a repeat performance is due huh?" The first Robin answers instead, detecting the shell-shocked expression with fondness when Damian rotates to him for a second time and immediately nods, trying to maintain all that composure he doesn't need to show in front of Dick.

"We're partners Grayson—Dick," Damian corrects himself, speaking quietly without losing his attitude, "but until your unfortunate state is otherwise tested and reversed, your place is here." Then he moves slightly, the acrobat's hand that was on his locks removed, exchanging it instead by extending his own arms somewhat abashed; that hereditary frown flawless on his facial appearance. "Come, we must get you to your quarters to rest for the day; tomorrow we'll begin with the appropriate measures to return you to your proper state."

The former Batman smirked, obviously entertained with what Damian was inferring, deciding to dance around the subject of 'tomorrow's appropriate measures'. "You offering to take me there?" He asked, completely thrilled when the teen's blush came back to life; his baby brother was a hoot, really, "Geez, guess I should be honored huh? Who would've thought—"

"_Are you done?"_ Damian asked testy, infuriated when the mischievous grin became wider, resembling that of a Cheshire cat from those tales on the old children books, "-Tt- it appears that your maturity was also diminished to fit your age," he scolded, retrieving the offered arms to his chest, "how appropriate; and to think you were incapable as an adult too. Leaves me baffled as to what father saw on you that made him take you in." The costumed warrior lied through his teeth, walking to the acrobat's quarters, and stopping to throw a quick look over his shoulder at the beginning of their kin with a small smirk, "are you coming? That offer _expired_ Grayson,"

Dick smiled, armed with a couple of twists and flips to get him ahead of the teenager, "You know, I don't care what you two buttheads say—you and Jason could get along pretty well if you guys gave it a shot," the child chanted as he made his way a little at the forefront of the other one to his assigned room.

The Wayne adolescent stopped short at those words for a millisecond and then continued walking one step behind the most important person in his life.

"…-Tt-, that's ludicrous Gr-Dick,"

"You'd be surprised," The gypsy only shook his head good naturally, taking note to not say anything about the other bird muttering his first name. Now he had planted the thought back in the youngster's head, so he could leave with the reassurance that his words to both Jason _and_ Damian would be taken into account once they found no trace of him next morning.

Another one taken care of, he still had three more to go.

* * *

><p><em>~-07:50hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"_Tim?"_ He heard Dick's whisper rapping at his door and all his countenance changed drastically; the priorities automatically reasserting themselves as he had the bed sheets over his form rearranged to cover the small block that would be hidden on his gauntlets once he finished tampering with it: he would plant the bug on Jason's persona—where was yet to be established—to keep an eye on the rogue robin. His light blue crystals iced over at the thought of the older vigilante; he _knew _Jason was directly responsible for more things than he wanted them to believe, and he _knew _Jason had been hiding Dick from them.

It only brought more antagonism towards the raven haired with the white streak on his hair, because Tim could not forgive the other man hiding the most important person on his life and then attempt to remove him from them when Dick clearly needed his family. That was Jason's main problem:

He was selfish.

"_Timmy?"_ The acrobat's voice came back at his ears, and Tim's mind glazed over at the first time he heard that voice when both his parents took him to the circus; he was quick to surpass the memory in any case, regarding how inconvenient it was at the time being and dwelling to let his focus on the task at hand. It was then that double-checking everything was in order he cleared his throat mutely, directing his attention to the door at his right.

"It's open," he answered, feeling the nerves crept over him now that he saw the gypsy's head pop into his clean space—the terms in which they parted but a few hours ago stabbing him, but not in the disposition to change the ordeal.

He understood where Dick was coming from, but his thoughts on the Batmembers were already established and he regretted not one of them. Regardless, his situation with the eldest (chronologically at least) was not going to change; he was determined to keep the acrobat's relationship with him and recover it from where they left it.

No matter the obstacles.

"Hey," Tim listened his brother utter with a small smile, closing the door to the room and stepping inside carefully, while he nodded slightly in greeting; not trusting his throat with a syllable for the moment, "how's the leg?" Dick asked him and he just couldn't stop the miniature smile that upturned his lips a little.

"Getting better." The third male of their generation responded, watching with his calculating gaze the slight tension on his brother's shoulders and feeling guilty about it without giving signs of it; over the years Tim had become more stoic and improved considerably at hiding his thoughts and emotions, and right now he was being rewarded from it. "What did Leslie said?"

He watched the carnie relax immediately at his words, obviously pleased he was making an attempt to converse—the motive of Dick's visit all along Tim could assume, and that eased his frigid self-possession by a fraction.

"Same as Alfred," Tim watched him reply, shrugging his tiny shoulders beneath the big textiles, and stepping forwards to be closer to him; Tim just kept himself on the bed, waiting for more clues as to Dick's position with him, even when all pointed he was no longer on the gypsy's bad terms, "but you're the one who got more damage out of the whole ordeal. How long will you be out of commission?"

"Physically recovery will be dependent relative; two weeks and I'll be working on the streets again, in the meantime I'll assist Bruce on Intel." The grown male used as his response, faltering when Dick's countenance became defensive again. "I'll stay out of his way, don't worry. It's not like he gave much of a choice in the first place." He kept speaking, not controlling his remorseful comment to himself about Jason and the acrobat and avoiding the blue gaze aimed at his icy one.

"What?" Dick asked, regaining his steps closer to him, "Tim, maybe I was a little harsh on you," he kept hearing the gypsy amend, and he felt better at it, "but in spite of, I'm still sticking to my point. You weren't the only one who got a taste of the nasty truth, and I certainly accept that Jason and Damian aren't the easiest people to get along with considering your history with each of them—however alike they are, now that I mention it—it's just that after waiting what felt like eons to see you again," and Tim's eyes flickered at his remaining orb with surprise evident on his features at those words, "this was not something I expected from my favorite little brother," at that he couldn't be exactly sure what he felt, and Dick had taken advantage at some point and had his tiny hand over one of his forearms, "we grew up together, and for a long time it was just the two of us watching each other's backs; guess I was just hoping you tried the same with Damian at least."

"That's a little hard when the Homunculus just gets worse with time," he bit out in an unconscious manner to explain himself at the other one. The comfort still remained on the fact that Dick would be stranded on the Cave with him and Alfred, so Tim had many time to make his way into his brother's good graces again, and a plan to deal with the pebbles along the way.

While the strain he saw on Dick's smile was there, the acrobat grinned somewhat nonetheless and then sat at his right side promptly, resting his head on his right shoulder and examining the wall in front of the bed boringly.

"I'll have a word with Jason about your leg; asshole shouldn't have done that to you whatever the circumstances." And however small a victory, it was one battle closer to winning the war against the older male, and a step forward that made his existence less lonely at Dick still catching on whatever bothered him. Almost like they were never apart. "Now, what are we watching?" He spoke with such clarity that Tim smiled just a little before upturning his gauntlet at the left counter of his bed and pressing some codes; one green holographic screen popping to life with a list of old saved movies coming into place. The artifact was going to be implanted later, he would make sure to make time for it; right now he wouldn't trade his spot for no one else.

The older brunette smiled mutely at the peace which the two were left, and at the simplicity of their interactions; Dick was a boy now, but he had his brother and friend back, and for the moment, even with Jason and Damian clawing at his back in such a near vicinity, he felt some warmth at not being alone anymore, and hesitantly, he raised his hand and squeezed gently his brother's shoulder in the regained sense of familiarity.

Things were going to be okay, and in his downtime Tim would make sure to investigate what had happened to his brother to return him to his proper state and protect him like he should have done all those years back. But right now, he would just enjoy his peaceful time with him and nothing more.

"Whatever you want."

* * *

><p><em>~-08:21hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

They had been interrupted shortly at the beginning of the movie when Alfred entered the quarters to apply another injection for Tim's leg; while it wasn't anything near what they boy wanted, he knew it was for the male's own good, so after reassuring Tim it was okay and a rain check on the movie he left the two men to go search for Cass.

The news of Bruce's absence into another city that wasn't even on Alfred's knowledge far more hurtful to his spirits than the butler's interruption on the morning, but the man inside the boy had already known the man inside the Batsuit enough to understand him—to understand his need for space when everything was so sudden and overwhelming.

"Dick, where are you going?" Steph's voice stopped him dead on his tracks, twirling to his right to see the approaching female in her purple and pink pajamas. Her hair was an adorable tangled mess, and the blue eyed blonde reflected the fatigue coming out in waves in her drowsy state. No doubt she just awoke.

"Just searching for something without bothering Alfred." He said, making his way to a nearby tray with a plastic cup and smiling faking sleep to drive the blonde off. He felt terrible for lying to Steph already, though considering it was just half the truth and he wasn't exactly telling her a lie by abjection of the facts did made it a lot more tolerable he supposed. "He went to give Tim his happy time doze while we were watching a movie. Figure I'll let him catch some sleep after the morphine kicks in." Then he grinned at the amused smile on the other end; one thing he loved about Steph was her easy going nature. "You might want to copy-cat him for another two hours at least, see ya later Steph." Dick smiled and waved at her, the woman catching on and smiling triumphally at having the chance to rest and the comfort of knowing the third bird was going to be resting soon.

"You too Dick, sleep tight."

* * *

><p><em>~-08:34hrs. Trigate Bridge, Gotham City.<em>

The smile breaching his white pearls was imminent at the sight. Finding Cassandra was a lot easier than he'd recollected, but it was only due to his attachment to the girl that he knew exactly where to find her perched underneath the bridge.

**Their **bridge.

The female was still in her Black Bat suit, mask covering her closed eyes as she let the morning breeze move her hair; the picture she made resembling a painting that ought to be at a museum from the sadness compelled in such an artsy panoramic. He crept into the deserted bridge with practiced ease; the need for his grappling hook no more once he had grasped with his bare hands the rails constructing the structure and followed a pattern installed within him to the point where it was merely instinct moving at such heights from the freezing water underneath.

The Wayne woman stirred a little in her meditative state at the shifting appearing on her right side; a warmth radiating from a tiny body that took her out from her trance to stare at the blue thunderstorms aimed at her aged features, and her body relaxed; offering her smile and reclining once anew on the back of the viaduct. Noises were less protuberant at this time of the day; the gangs making their shifts from goons and the Heads of Gotham taking their respective rat nests contained by their perimeters. If her memory didn't fail her, this was Penguin's turn to hold Custody, and Cobblepot would be on the Iceberg Lounge for another couple of hours before heading firstly to the Clock Tower in Old Gotham District, then to the Financial District to some uncertain spot that changed every Custody meeting. Even when Two Face was in possession of the District he would not heed attention to the feathered business man; like she said, the other one had Custody, and that made him Primary Head in Gotham for the present moment.

Whilst her Father had taken leave, she had come out to investigate a stench of gossip-filled lies that followed a trail from their latest meeting in Omicron-Metropolis. It was imperative to find the nature of those rumors, considering their involvement in the battle and their reward coming in the form of one Dick Grayson. Of course, unneeded to say out-loud Batman had left her in charge of the now "peaceful" City, so she had gotten outside to guard the outskirts and find clues first thing after Alfred got the bullets out and her broken wrist in a new bandage, but there was this want she had come to indulge as time went along that obliged her to come every time she took to patrol and just breathe through her mask imagining it wasn't there.

The need to see what their fight was about. To rest and remind herself why all of this was needed.

Not questioning her brother's not allowed impromptu visit, she leaned against his affection; clumsily self-conscious for the starved want contained by her of warmness caring, and the mixture of shame at failing in her task of having their family united.

It seemed her brother, however, didn't falter in his steps to demonstrate his love and just nuzzled at her crowns hair, circling his arms around her slim shoulders and making space between them so she could completely lean against him while he stood just behind her, resting his back against the rail and tightening his grip when her hands just went to grasp his forearms in retaliation. She felt secure in the arms of the child offering her comfort; offering a companion on this lonely road only both of them knew to this extent but that she couldn't make work for all she tried.

Cassandra wasn't able to discern the moment she felt her consciousness leave her behind, slowly embarking her trip to the realm of Hypnos she had denied far too long. She felt rested and tranquil when her eyelids flickered open behind the white lenses and the steady warmth kept her in place without shifting. So she lifted her brown covered orbs to the boy providing her soothe and just knew.

He was leaving them.

Behind the transparent gas mask he smiled down at her and she smiled at him sadly in return, already letting him know what she had discovered from this time. She had never been much of a detective; her fists and determination proving to be more than useful to fill that gap in her inefficiency in said department, but it was an easy guess with the profile.

"Thank you." She heard him whisper and the grip on her shoulders doubled. "I love you Cass, and I'm sorry for leaving this weight on your shoulders for more time." At that she shook her head in complete understanding. While she adored her father and all members of her extended family, she knew no one would deem the 'eldest' of their crew the room to breathe and work in the only way he could do it. What else but complete understanding could be given? "You stepped in and did whatever you needed to in order to keep them alive, sane and together—and there's nothing I could give you to show you how much does that make you shine more in my eyes and love you for who you are." Her smile broke a little, faltering in the unnecessary praise and feeling slightly awkward and abashed at the sincerity provided; hiding her face by staring at the sea beneath them. "You are our kin's light Cass, don't you ever forget that."

She felt him give her one last squeeze before he unhooked one of his tiny arms from around her and she turned, her eyes feeling moist at the open palm facing her with that flashing grin that she responded with her lovely smile on her own; upturning her right hand and joining each other's palms at their resolute affection.

"Five fingers…"

"Take care, Cass. And thank you, for everything."

One more smile before she felt him leave, one silent tear disobeying her commands and falling from her face at the fading figure using the stolen grapple hook to escalate the skyscrapers. Order would be required with a house full, but she could do it. Dick had basically told her she would never be alone again.

And she believed her brother, counting on it.

* * *

><p><em>~-09:52hrs. <em>_Abandoned Juvenile Center, Old Gotham District, Gotham City._

It was stupid to come here again in the middle of the day at plain sight of the enemy, and yet here he was. True testament of his stubborn so called 'bat-nature'.

His friends would be having a feat and laughing their asses off at his expense for sure.

Freeze's remnants from his snow were coming all the way from Tricorner (9) Yards over the District, being the only thing that made the stupidity on his actions more tolerable, keeping the skies nebulous from the low temperature, without a single trace of the sun above their heads.

He lowered himself into the chimney, shimming his way into the old place that was dear to him even when most of his memories in there weren't. The space was overflowed with spider webs trapping the dead insects on the taut gap, making him lucky enough to be the right size and have the correct amount of flexibility to hold himself without feeling the strain on his muscles. The boy had seen Harvey enter the Building with a quick scan of some security bugs he'd left on the place before Bruce had come over for him along with everybody else, and according to his conclusions, the only reason that this Building remained intact and no more than the man with the disfigured features was allowed to enter was because he had something hidden within its walls.

And Dick was not going to let an opportunity to solve that mystery go by unbound.

He got into a cleared space and then opened a gate with some equipment left on his utility belt (not stolen seeing how it was technically his in the first place right?) to make his way into the laundry-shut, bypassing on his path the boy's bathrooms while he was on the vents and getting into the big open space that used to be the Food Court; lunch tables filled with dust covering the gray legroom while dirty unused trays lay scattered all over the floor, tables and whatnot. It appeared as if there was once life that had been taken out by force out of the blue, which, of course, was probably not far from being truth Dick summarized once his masked eye fell on the lonely figure at the top of the three stairs connecting the Food Court to where the bedroom section was set.

The circus carnie stilled, eyeball scrutinizing every last detail he could from his place on the vents of the aged older male in a dual suit meters below him; transfixed with how many strong lines rested on the demented man's skin and grey hairs stuck to his sideburns and some unequal parts of his brown hair at the base of his skull. His eyes had not changed, still containing that hatred-madness within him from having two polar opposites sharing the same mind and body; nor was the majority of that chestnut or white hairdo left out of place; his structure remained rough, signaling the man had kept in shape, and his sense in style was kept almost impeccable; the most important token of his persona dangling in a specific dance between his fingers on his left hand as he stared at it in silence.

It brought him the same constriction at the deep of his chest that always came whenever he and Harvey crossed paths after that beating he took with the baseball bat (10) when he was new to the superhero business.

Never had he told a soul of it and never would he do it.

He wondered what was going through the madman's head, the purpose of his stance. Procuring another glance overall at his surroundings, he was somewhat left bewildered that nothing was amiss or out of touch; almost as if the male himself wasn't keen on touching anything to avoid leaving his prints anyplace. It did fit on the psychological outline from Harvey Dent; unhealthy possession of material objects reminiscent of specific memories that served as a bridge to outshine that precise reminder, keeping it in a shrine to remove the possible threats that may injure and consequently tarnish said recollection.

A trait according to Sigmund Freud, pertinent of 'Anal Personality'.

Or at least that's what Bruce would get out from this man from all he's shown overall their trajectory anyways. And Alfie's lessons of course.

Maybe Harvey had something hidden on these walls? His goon squad had certainly remarked the importance of the building, asides from the quick inspection of the subject, so he could just find subterfuge around this empty halls and deserted spaces to follow the half-faced male until he went away (Alfred had said Dent probably resided on the City Hall, but they didn't had 100% reassurance on that fact) and _then _see what was so special from the Center in any case.

It was certainly worth a shot.

Making sure to avoid incoming sounds on the abandoned edifice, he was just about to change positions in search of a better angle when the deep chuckle broke him out of his implanted training; his form tensing and ready for what the inmate below had to say.

"Come out, come out wherever you are~" Two-Face chuckled darkly and Dick froze in his Robin costume up in the vents. He made no movement to betray his covert position, and wondered if the madman had referred to someone else intruding on his alone time—but something in his gut told him it wasn't it; that Harvey just knew _**he**_ was _**here.**_

But it was impossible—right?

He found little relief on that logical assumption… that can never be good.

"One little Robin flew out the nest, he flew and flew and away he went—_ThEN HE FeLl aNd dIEd anD nEVeR FlEw AgAIn!" _ The Head of Gotham growled on his second persona suddenly, and it was only due to experience that the Boy Wonder kept from shivering at the change in character that kept chuckling in a sinister way in his consigns; the coin had stopped twirling on his fingers and was kept standing between the index and the middle one; unmoved.

There wasn't comfort in the now silent Dent, since Dick was positive his intuition had won once more.

'_Great. Just fan-fuckin-tastic.' _He reproached on his mind, imitating one of Jay's favorite words in his cursing of his luck. Of course Harvey would know he was here; the acrobat had been careful avoiding cameras and blind spots—it was child's play (so to speak and with no special retaliation considering his state) and had been careful to avoid making his presence known, but this was the former District Attorney's Sanctuary—at that he frowned, not liking the concept he's formulated based on his findings—of course the madman was going to notice something amiss, though the real question remained:

Was Two-Face positive this was Damian, or him?

The knot on his gut aimed at the latter of course, and taking in consideration his 'special creepy-rhymes' there wasn't much to discuss about it. Still, he kept to his site, not about to unravel himself to the other male.

All this was a waiting game, and Bruce had taught him well the benefits of being patient; he would wait for Harvey to make the first move as he had done so far and then progress from what he gathered.

"_COmE oUt HeRE boY!_ You've left me waiting years—the least you can do is come and say hello to the one who made you a man." Two-Face commanded, the voice poisonous in cynicism at the recollection he broadcasted. "…but where are my manners? I CAn gEt OuT tHE bAT iF yoU iNSiST. Give you another _Welcome_ to manhood while we're here." He kept speaking and his blood grew cold at that.

… there was simply no way—how did he…?

"Take all the time you want lad, every Head of Gotham knows you're here—and I'm talking about the ones that count: from that crazy clown to that muscled freak. You should be happy to know that we're the least of your problems right now." The voice below kept speaking, the trinket dangling perilously between the same fingers and both mad eyes lost in it.

Dick clenched his jaw; unmovable from his spot. Unrelenting to let go of his so-called anonymity and accept what could be a hunch from the older criminal.

'_There's no way it's a hunch'._ The Boy Wonder thought grimly; gaze ever watchful of his opponent's moves.

"Not unlike that scum you and your crew brought here on your tail, oh no; THOsE CAnNoT SpeAK LiKE yOU BoY. " Dent spoke and his consideration was redirected. Had people from Omicron-Metropolis really followed them? Hopefully the captives were still kept alive. If so, they must have gone through the tunnel Tim was using, seeing there wasn't any other viable option that would render them ineffective from knowing their approach. He'd checked the operational system Bruce had on the City; hidden cameras and motion sensors old but functioning to know that underground, while the area was covered, it wasn't nearly as inspected as the city above; maintenance wasn't the same and the bats couldn't really use all their resources in a place so unstable as below the earth, adding that Tim had just found out of the existing Tunnel aligned with the sewers in his most recent investigation that led him to the aforementioned city.

Either way it kept as an unexpected turn and it was all brought to one single point:

Who had made that tunnel connecting both cities in the first place, and then, to what purpose?

'_Change in plans. Priority is the hostages now. Screw secrecy.' _Ran the thoughts on his head, his grim determination considering all the variables he could to approach the Criminal downstairs.

"Still refusing to come out? Not surprising, chum, but very irksome. Justice demanded me to tell you about those criminals parading as law forces that follow a system more corrupted than the veins of Gotham, and to Lady Justice we answer." The man proclaimed, removing his stare from his coin for the first time in their one-sided interaction and leveling his eyes on the roof, no doubt searching for him but with no focus on any particular point. "We know you _Dick GRaySON_, cOMe OuT ANd PlAY. We can make it TWo OuT OF ThREe, like old times, rEMEMbEr?" Two-Face chuckled, taunting in his end and apparently resisting the urge to toss the token in the air. At the recognition of his name on his Nemesis tongue, his insides wretched in bitter conclusion. There was no turn around to deny what the mad-man so clearly knew, and no reason to keep hiding when no retaliation was on the vicinity, seemingly inclined to believe his word about them no being source of his concern for now.

First thing once he got out in the clear from this mess, he would take a big nice long nap to wash his memories from this unpleasant situation. Have a nice big bowl of cereal if he could get hand on any.

A guy could only hope anyways. Now, to go back to the prisoners and get some Intel while he was at it.

"…where are they Harvey?" His voice resonated from the vent system; as grave as he could make it in his juvenile form and ice cold from his encounters with the man. There was no turning back now.

"HaHAHAhaHaHAhahaHA! So the boy finally decides to join the Courthouse!" The demented man hollowed in crisp joy, sealing his deal in sour recognition. "I'll let you know boy, we had our doubts of when you were going to come back, but Lady Justice is blind for a reason, and DeLIVeRs tO US wHo FOllOw hEr LEaD." He spoke in demented circles finally twirling his coin toss after toss, back and forth in his reverie. It left him questioning how did they knew he would come back? What was happening to have the Inmates more informed than Batman and the others? "Now come out here and sit down lad, years have passed for me, and my knees are not as they used to, unfortunately for you its backwards heh?" He kept talking as he took a seat in one of the stairs at his feet.

"How?" Dick asked without preambles; it was obvious by now the man knew more than anybody else and clearly had no intentions to harm him—momentarily anyways—so he might as well get all he could before setting the prisoners free.

"C'mmon, use THaT BiRD BraIn yoU'Ve gOT, kId." Harvey responded, touching his forehead with his index finger and sight lost in no particular point at the ceiling. "We've got that poison bitch and her plants with that idiotic sewage freak and his sense of smell on SQUarE OnE. Magic is gone, but even by ourselves we know what happens in Gotham and when does it happen. Show some smarts boy!"

That got him at least his explanation to knowing of his circumstances; Croc would smell him, he just needed a whiff of his scent that was true, and even with the ample expanse of Gotham, with Ivy's spores everywhere, the plants would find his unbalanced metabolism reeking and give Croc a hand in pinpointing him. After all, if they were just waiting for him, it was logical to assume all ears were open for his return.

Creepy.

"You seem pretty sure I was going to come back Harvey, what gave me off?" The acrobat asked, point in making the other man in question ramble as much as he could.

Two-Face smirked, the disfigured left hand gripping with a strength so absolute Dick couldn't buy that line about his knees anymore.

"_Tsk, tsk Wonder Boy,_ we need order in the Court, and more than one Meeting to start digging the evidence for the Ultimate Trial." Was the evasive answer he got in return. "The culprits at hand on today's Trial failed to make it to the Courthouse, well, oNE Of ThEM diD."

His brows furrowed.

"What can you expect from a dirty animal? That poison bitch needs to keep her vines on him next time. bUT lEt ME iNDuLGe yOu bOY," Dent chatted away, and Dick paid him no less than his undivided attention. "The culprit was charged of TreSSPaSing, attEMPted esPioNAGe, anD SeCoND ANd firST DegREe MUrDEr, and was found Guilty of his charges. Sentenced to be eaten alive at dawn."

The acrobat gritted his teeth. Dawn had been hours ago, he was too late.

"What are you hiding that they were after?" Was his follow-up question and the District Attorney seemed pleased at his questioning.

"Why, the means to destroy them boy, look at it this way: there's one reason good-ol' Bats is still reigning a fight against that scum that runs up so _preposterous _in its might, and it's Us." He stood up, raising both arms up in the air. "Think about it Boy Wonder, OUr WalLS aRE IMpeNEtrABle and we KnOW The sECreT to DefEAT HiM. How can they bypass that?" He spoke amused at the revelation.

He raised one eyebrow hidden beneath the domino mask.

"If you know so much about them, why haven't you done anything to stop him?" Dick questioned logically, "You are clearly against Leviathan, so why wait in Gotham when you could very well do something about it."

"SpOKen LiKE A TrUE ParTNEr fROM thE BAtmAN. You're getting ahead of yourself kid, the pieces are scattered, so what's the first step to take the advantage of the game?" Harvey spoke eloquently, and his stomach churned in disgust at the roles they were partaking in this chat of teacher and student.

"Find and collect the pieces," he answered against his better judgment and the sick feeling coming from it. The twisted smirk from Harvey down below amplifying the sentiment.

"It's all about the Greek Pieces, Grayson." Dick felt his insides twist some more at the man using his name to keep the conversation ongoing. "You find one and then you go after the next one until you hold all the pieces together—ANd tHeN yOU sTRikE! You need patience to win the game, and only holding all the pieces does your chances stop being disadvantageous and become fair. BlINd lIkE LAdy JuSTICe."

His brain connected his voices, recollecting an investigation he left before his impromptu demise.

"Croc made the tunnel; what are you searching from Omicron-Metropolis?" He asked point blank, making the connection and reasserting from Harvey's smirking features.

"WhAT Do YoU tHinK GrAYson?" He slurred darkly, chuckling shortly afterwards. "We need to move the pieces under the rug for Batman to get through sometimes, you and I know how he and the rest of his urchins are, because you and I are the same—wE undERStaNd eAch OTHeR," the man relished and Dick didn't comply to feel the same, "we both know the Bat will never accept the way we handle things like that Red Helmet-ed brat he discharged around," at the mention of Jason his eyes hardened.

"_Don't speak of him." _He ordered, and silence fell around the two before a chuckle came from Two-Face. But Dick was not amused. He'd be damned to let any of those crazies go near his brother again. _Any of them. _"This is obviously between us Harvey, so keep it that way, or you won't be glad I came back anymore."

"Touched a nerve huh? Didn't meant to ruffle your feathers kid, here's the thing—nobody can understand how these things work, and now that you're finally back, we can help each other out and vacate that miserable excuse of a Criminal Mastermind in one go. BuT YoU NEEd To PLAy thE gAME. Two out of three like you said all those years ago. The loser shows his head waiting for sentence. yOU IN?"

"…what's the next move?"

"_bReAKIng BeTA._ Sure your little traitor in that NeT knows a thing or two we're talking about." He didn't miss how Dent deliberately told him about knowing his acquaintance with Net and most probably Mage. It scared him to witness just how much the madman knew and how little he was letting by. "Just make sure to leave your scattered Bird Brains out of it. A lad like yourself needs to make sure to keep his sanity in check," He openly mocked him and now Dick found himself more and more uncomfortable in this man's presence.

_What the hell was going on?_

"Make sure to use that lesbian bitch to your advantage too, and pay me a visit when you find your other part. I would love to see my growing boy once more after the second piece is completed. Now how about you and I make a little game?"

Dick's frown became rigid; he'd played that game before and it cost him a Judge's life. Today it was not worth it since two lives were already lost.

"No." His voice resonated through the walls and only a maniacal laughter followed his downturn immediately afterwards.

"_Harvey, Harvey, Harvey!"_ The Clown Prince's voice came haunting him.

'_You gotta be kiddin' me.' _Dick thought slumping in his seat at the impossible situation making itself just more impossible.

"WhAT Are YOu DoiNG HeRE cLOWn? This is _MY_ TeRriTORy!"Harvey broke his composure, veiling to aim an AK-47 he got out from his coat at the Joker that came from the Bedroom Quarters with that smile attached to his face. The Prince of Smiles had not changed that much in this time, sporting strong lines more defined around the edges of his lips from that terrible smile that always adorned his features like those of Harvey on his forehead from where the latter frowned; the haired prevailed that sick green with no trademarks of gray hair on the spot, and his skinny figure was kept in shape with that ugly old-fashioned purple suit that spoke of him, tailored and spot clean for the looks of it; the gloves in his hands were mint-clean as well, but Dick could see from a little part of his forearm that was showing from a folded sleeve the strong veins that stood out on his light frame, signaling his aging process.

"Silly me! Here I thought we were having a _Welcome Party_ for the _Boy Wonder!"_ The Joker retorted, and the toxin beneath his undertones was enough to make him realize playtime was over and he needed to get out.

ASAP.

"After all, haven't we all waited for him to arrive? You should come to the Amusement Mile (11) Dickieboy!" Joker yelled at the ceiling just like Harvey had, bluntly ignoring the fuming Gothamite Lord meters from him. "You and I can have a swell time at the Arcade and then step into the Fair!"

His heart-beat slowed for a moment, quickly regaining his beat. He felt so violated at these men knowing his real name and consequently everything that involved him. Tarnished.

"Growing boy like yourself could use some good nutritious Fair food, and _then _we can recall all our precious times together before you go and head for Beta that Harv here told you about—my treat! Whaddya say precious Wonder Brat?" He asked with that growing smile and teeth much more yellow than he'd ever seen.

"Yeah, I think I'll pass on this one guys, maybe on another life when you're not intending to kill me."

"Kill you? Whooo Hahahahaha! Oh boy! After all the trouble we had bringing you back alive?" That struck a chord in him. What was he talking about. Net, Mage, and Jason helped him, not Joker, not Harvey—not _them._ "No, no, we want you with us sonny boy! _You complete_ _**me. **_We are **all (**12) destined to do this _**forever~! **_(13)_**"**_

"Back off Clown, this one's mine."

"Harvs, you wound me, after all, callsies firsties! And I placed a stake on the Boy Blunder first time he came in those shortpants." Joker's voice became dark with vile. "The second turn didn't lived-up to his standards, and nothing beats up the original—besides, using a crowbar has so much more to it…~"

He needed to hear no more, and without sparing a second thought, Dick was out, all the way from the ducts to the chimney and flying through the chilly air of Gotham, ignoring the creepy laughter of the Joker and the mad chase of the array of bullets in the background until his feet grew tired and he fell on a dumpster near a tree, gasping for air and clutching at his chest in sudden ache at the recurrent stabs that were his companions.

The boy was not left with the opportunity to regain his feet, for sooner than he'd expected, the ground opened and swallowed him below the confines of the earth; the stench of the septic tank permeated through his gas mask in a way that wasn't possible and a vine grasping his naked feet stalwartly.

"My, what has fallen from the sky?" Pamela's voice resonated and he caught the vision of the redheaded female smiling at his direction. "You took your time Boy Wonder, we were beginning to think you'd never show up. How disappointed would that have made us." Ivy's voice sounded positively delighted at the costume the kid paraded.

Dick got out of the grip with one twist and landed on his feet, silently cursing at the disgusting remains he was stepping into in the place for the predicament of encountering yet _another _Head of Gotham who apparently felt the need to chat him up. Well, two; Ivy had said _'us'._

Oh goodie.

"Stop it Ivy." Selina's voice came out behind him and the carnie felt his lungs implode at the excitement it brought to see someone like her in this circumstances. "Remember our deal."

Ivy upturned her head languorously, a leer in her voluptuous lips aimed at the Cat and the Bird who stood imperviously in the drains.

"Oh, trust me Selina, _I will." _Then she casted her green gems on him, "I'll see you around Dickie, hopefully sooner than you think." She spoke before she disappeared with her plants to go into the surface again, leaving the two Batmembers alone.

Before he had the chance to do so, the older female had him wrapped in a tight hug, hunched to cover his form completely, and he could only comply by returning her affection and keeping still for as long as the woman needed. Selina had been a motherly figure for him while grew up, and he'd certainly been disappointed when he found no trace of the woman in question back at the new cave, and had wondered of her relations with their crew. It was good to see her after the stressful events that had taken place so quickly one after the other.

"Don't do that again, you hear me." She spoke in hushed tones that seemed nothing alike the smart-devious lady she was, "they will tear you apart just to keep you to themselves. _Don't do that again."_

"Wasn't planning to stay Selina, it's okay—"

"Dick," Her green eyes bore into his, and he could see how broken she was when there was no glimmer left on her lovely features, "they would keep you, and you'd never be able to find any other trace of daylight. _Please. Don't do that again."_

"… I can't make you that promise," he told her earnestly, not capable to lie straight at her face, and when she reached to removed the Domino mask he had to stare at his eyes he stopped her and procured her a tired smile in benefit of her broken one at his denial, "not here, let's get out of this place. I need to leave Gotham today, and you can keep me company on my travel out."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she nodded and placed her goggles on her eyes; she, unlike the others from her crew, had no mask to procure her clean air, and it worried him.

"I know a way out."

* * *

><p><em>~-11:31hrs. Brown Bridge, Gotham City<em>

"That's why you need to leave huh? Hmm, sounds alright to me I guess," The upper class Thief purred half-heartily attempting to smile at the upcoming sun within the breeze being so near Freeze's Province, "Bruce will not accept you going back to the field so soon, he's stubborn like that. You're doing the right thing by leaving Dick, we're not really the best company right now." She said and sounded so desolate the carnie scowled at her amused tones.

"You just drifted apart, nothing some head-poundings and the end of the War can't cure." He tried, grinning at her at the base of the bridge. She glanced at him, veiling her position in favor of his own at his right and slowly, almost uncertainly she took hold of his cheek caringly, asking permission and deliberately slow so if he wanted, he could easily turn away from her touch. Catwoman was careful with her movements from his dismissal before at the tunnels, but he had no restraint anymore—no upturning criminals he'd needed to guard himself from, so he just leaned into the touch, reasserting her gestures for what they were. Slowly, she peeled the mask with the help of her other hand and he closed his eyes, encompassing on the familiar feeling of the spirit gum sticking to small parts of his face and the material leaving his orbs naked. He chose to ignore the drenched gasp deep in her throat in her favor when she probably watched the scar on his left eyelid and smiled warmly in return, smashing blue and green in what felt like an eternity.

The hand on his black locks came uncertain and devoted, almost afraid to touch him like an antique and he grasped strongly the extremity; grinning more widely with such sincerity that demonstrated her same hand he was not broken; just a little damaged.

Ever so slowly, she petted him like she did her beloved cats, the green emeralds on her face twinkling a little at the grimace of her rebellious tears and wrecked smile.

"It'll all be alright again, you know that right Selina?" He asked her with the care of the man he was within the boy and she nodded slightly, the corner of her luscious lips upturning in her wake.

"I know Dick," she spoke gently, scratching his ear and Dick found himself amused and adored at the action, "Gotham can yet be what she was, we only need time and resources. The crooks in here might be crazy, but they know their things, heed what you heard today but don't come back unless I give you the clear. We listen to each other, and I have earned my place back in here, so if you will not listen to your brick of a father, please listen to me." Her sweet voice told him, and nodded, having recorded in his head his conversations with the loons and hers. "You will need help though; that Net and the other one are not enough and not trustable enough to keep your back unsupervised."

He watched her closely once those words had gotten out; his expression closed at her stopping her ministrations but letting her hand prevail in her spot at the crown of his head.

"So you know about them too."

She nodded with a sly smirk, mirror of her once playful reflection.

"Your brother might be slick, but the woman made a mistake once she was here in Gotham and contacted him; it was all we needed to know. Crane was the one who took notice and spread the word to the Heads of Gotham and only us. Then it only took some meaningless measures to find out about the other one on your brother's crusade, and just recently, the new addition that is the littlest of the nest too."

Dick grimaced, taking a point in having a word with said operative about her slip that was yet to be determined as advantageous or otherwise. He wasn't keen on the Inmates knowing of two of his brothers movements under the radar; it was a high risk not having Bruce's support on this, and their enemies—or could they really be called that now?—having that knowledge left him edgy. The gypsy would need to do some serious damage control or find a way to get both ravens outside the City for a while since things were going to follow an ugly path soon enough.

"Why are you saying that? If you saw her you should be at least somewhat secure of her role with us; she wouldn't betray any of us at the stake of her life." Dick reasserted the woman in leather but she shook her head in mocked disbelief.

"You have yet to see the limits of her loyalty. It's best if you don't stay near her that long unsupervised in your current predicament."

"Then who are you suggesting? Don't suppose you have a list somewhere in that outfit of yours?"

The smirk on her face told him otherwise, and his spirits rose at the sight of the woman he once knew held Bruce's heart over many others along with the mother of his youngest brother.

"Long back, before our allies were captured, I came across a fine jewel just when we were securing as much of Bruce's resources as we could (14). It was the rarest jewel of all, but it was too confined to my limits back then, and with the pressure of our crew getting captured, I lost sight of it. I regret now, but it's not too late. I've recently found traces of it some months ago, but due to my circumstances abiding me to one place I couldn't pursue it; that's where you come in."

"… and where would I find this 'jewel'?" He asked interested in what the thief was inferring. Even now the risk of being overheard was too high, but if what she pointed at was true…

"Mexico." She spoke with certainty and both of them shared a look of understanding on their procedures. Selina would keep quiet of their encounter; no doubt the woman was hurt at Bruce for not telling her of his presence on the City, even when she heard from another source, and he would travel to the country he'd just vacated in search for her quarry.

He knew exactly what she was talking about, and although a long journey, there was no time to lose now with his sight set on the ultimate prize. The acrobat had just wondered briefly about his travel accommodations, this being a mission he'd have to keep from Mage and Net altogether, for it was Selina's request on her discoveries and investigations, finding himself aligned with five different groups all in one evening, until an idea popped into his head and he smirked in victory at his accommodations.

She looked at him questioningly at the change in demeanor, and his grin grew wider when he was about to share his travel accommodations.

He was sure Selina knew of it.

"Have any ideas where I can find a redheaded teenage speedster on this side of the continent?"

* * *

><p>(1) Using the game's 'Batman Arkham Asylum' map and features on basically everything in here for the Asylum. That game was pretty awesome and the riddles made it all the better. Will upload later when time appears.<p>

(2) Directly after the events of the issues "Batman and Robin Reborn – Batman and Robin 013-016" of the arc "Batman and Robin Must Die!" where Dick and Damian do the lasts of their apparitions as the Dynamic Duo and then Bruce appears right after coming back from being lost in Time. AWESOME Issues featuring the Joker, Black Glove, Professor Pyg and more. Really, awesome. This centers right after Dick has been in surgery for his wound to his head that was going to leave him quadriplegic and before Bruce announced Batman Inc on that press conference. Before the First Chapter of this Story too.

(3) Professor Pyg.

(4) For references this is after Final Crisis, on the Graphic Novel "Batman – The Return of Bruce Wayne", specifically issue 06 out of 06. Nothing too know except part of the League got him back.

(5) Reference from the first issue of the Reboot (dreaded so) of Batman 01, where almost all the Batmale members (Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Tim and Damian) are with monkey-suits and Damian is wearing his tennis instead of his formal shoes to the gala. Fun.

(6) Hurt. Reference from the issue aforementioned of Batman and Robin Reborn- Batman and Robin 16.

(7) Another reference from the issue just mentioned and the one before it. Basically 'Hurt' (the villain there) shots Dick in the back of his brain, leaving him with a soon-to-be-clot that will leave him quadriplegic unless Damian joined him and then he would operate Dick to save him.

(8) Tim.

(9) Victor F. District, once more, for references there's the Map coming from 'No Man's Land' already uploaded in my Profile here at FF.

(10) References read "Robin: Year One." A big favorite of mine by the way.

(11) Joker's District on Gotham City. Map already uploaded for references. Using same one.

(12) Bruce, Dick and Joker.

(13) Quote from a pretty awesome movie "The Dark Knight" from Joker to Batman almost at the end, on his last scene with him.

(14) Reference to '_Chapter I.- Remembrance on the Beginning of the End.' _when the Bruce Wayne is disclosed as Batman and his resources got frozen to prevent him from using them, having most of his colleagues try and recover what they could and secure them on John Doe's accounts.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__Let's unwrap this baby in simple successions of events: Dick's situation gets somewhat established as well as his slowly reconstruction of his familiar's state. Then we see that Arkham Inmates know _a lot more _than what everyone else does. Sweet. Joker appears and demonstrates once more he and Two-Face rock. Next we see a glimpse of another pointer at either Net or Mage's identity, signaling at least one of them is a 'she'. Then we see Selina's alignment and something darker looming in her person that has yet to be established, so kudos if someone nailed it. We also see the upcoming of someone else new to this story, so new character on the next one. Yep, I went there. Care to guess?_

_Alright so this one gave me a lot of grief simply because most of the times I sat up or sat upside down to _write it _something had to come between me and my laptop and had to be put on hold. It was very frustrating to say the least, and tested my patience to the point where after many attempts I felt no longer the need to write since my temper got the best of me and had to release the fumes lest I spontaneously combusted from my own stupidity and short fuse. Also, didn't wanted to make it that specific so also was battling between censoring myself or not on things that are just making the story longer and longer as each chapter gets done. Dick was not supposed to stay a child this long chapter-wise, since story wise he's still within that parameter. Not really a bad thing, since I do this mostly for myself, but oh well. We all have our issues and obsessions set aside. On that matter I really want to thank my friend for her support on my censoring. _

_To my ever adoring Anon, don't worry, one can understand the tasks of everyday life overcoming the need to do something you like for something that you need to get done first. As long as you enjoyed the chapter I can say I'm happy for; your message was really one upturn of those stressful days, and it meant a lot that you took the time to let me know of your absence, you truly have enraptured my gratitude towards you, and hopefully you will enjoy this as well (assuming you did on the latest one *half-grin*)._

_Thank you for all of those who still read this, and hopefully this won't happen again now that summer is here and while work still stands in the way, maybe personal matters won't._

_Until next chapter._


	13. Recruiting the Forces: Old Friends and

**_Author's Notes: _**_ Also, going about the Chapter itself, it will contain more new characters that will be pretty much essential to the direction of the story, and more hints on different situations that I've been leaving trails off. So all in all is an extensive Chapter that serves to grasp more firmly the aspects that encompass all this array of scenarios that I just throw around here and there without actually throwing them around here and there all the same. More than one new character ahead, and had only pointed to two of them on the latest one, so kudos if you got it right. Enjoy._

**_EDIT.- Holy shit, I'm sorry. I really hadn't realized that the chapter I uploaded was the first save-copy I did by mistake on the folder with everything going on. My bad. Crap, almost a week to notice it and with the other one half-done when I wanted to update the Timeline. Sorry._**_  
><strong><br>Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><strong><em><br>Summary: _**_Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><strong><br>Eventual Pairings: **Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

**_Warning(s):_** _Foul language, Violence, and mentions of Cannibalism and Death._

_Wednesday June 13th, 2012 Words: 13,615 (Man, I'm good~)._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XIII.- Recruiting the Forces: Old Friends and New Allies.  
>or<br>Robbie Malone's Army._

_~-May 2017, 18:00hrs. Unknown location, Ruins of Old-Chicago, Illinois. (1 month and a half later)._

The dirt grazed his left cheek uncomfortably after long hours on foot with the hard sun on his back. The weather was horrible, and for Chicago that was something; the Windy-city filled with only boiling-hot rasps of air scratching the portions of his face that weren't covered.

He'd found some dark sunglasses that fitted his frame nicely weeks back when he had been recollecting scattered gear in the ghostly capitals that stood no more, slowly making themselves his new favorite accessory in view of the fact that he was impervious to the heated dirt rasping his eyeballs dry with the way it felt on his cheekbones. A scarf served him to keep him from breathing too much polluted air and hide the gas mask when he was entering City grounds to avoid suspicion; Bruce's sophisticated equipment would have made him stand-out in the refugees' eyes (something he'd learned by his first nights in a row was _not _a good thing unfortunately), and the textile attached to his mouth supplied him nicely, aiding as well on hiding the light scar on his tanned neck.

Soon enough he'd have to change clothes, Dick summarized; the dirty jacket he'd placed over the sweated t-shirt beyond the point of hope, and his jeans ripped on the knees from sleeping on hard surfaces or crawling around to avoid searching eyes. The young boy was not so keen on wearing the pants with so inflexible material, but he'd had to settle for some things and then work it out. Besides, there was that whole 'not attracting unnecessary attention' issue. He was already walking on the road that pointed at what used to be a common area on Chicago or Naperville even, collecting his thoughts on the area in question by squinting his eyeballs on deep thought at nothing in particular just out of pure habit. Selina had told him to search on Illinois,—that it was the last place she knew they inhabited once when she attempted to speak with Bruce and caught sight of those files, before the Bat closed them and himself from her approach.

The circus boy sighed, shaking his head at his stubborn father and wondering for the up tenth time this day how his family was coping in the limited space.

He had seized communications with Jason, not particularly warm to the thought of the others suddenly finding out—and it would really happen; he just _knew it_—and furthermore pushing the raven with the white streak farther away from their circle. Communication with Tim was not a smart thing to do either, certain the tech genius would undoubtedly find his whereabouts in a nutshell and injure himself further just to get to him. With his leg in healing process or not, Dick simply couldn't allow the older male to strain himself for something so impractical. Damian had been a rough option, he'd clearly had considered talking with the youngster, but he was still too fresh on his wounds, and would just follow him on this path he needed to set straight first and keep pushing everyone but himself out of his Exclusive Two-members-only Club. He had Jason trying to form part of, and was pretty sure Cass at least had the spot of the Bouncer if any; so adding himself into the mix was not the solution. Cass would definitely be having her hands full, but they agreed to specific terms on his leaving, and the woman had brightened considerably out of her shut demeanor after their resolution, however weary she appeared. He trusted the female to keep her end of the bargain. Bruce was another story all together. In fact, Dick was sure the man was holding resentment towards him for leaving without a word, and he couldn't deny fault on it. The concept stung, and it just got him wary from discomfort and guilt on the action itself. It was kinda the same with Alfred, while he was sure both him and Steph would understand his actions better.

Dick sighed, thirsty from his long trajectory; he doubled on a corner of a broken coffee shop, almost smelling the sweet scent of brewed coffee in his imaginary delight. He needed to find some directions shortly, or else he would be losing precious time getting acquainted with the surroundings and with no clue as to the whereabouts of the speedster in search. Some food was in order as well; his provisions weren't running low and he certainly wasn't keen on leaving another defenseless refugee without basic needs that could be found somewhere on the vast ruins, but he never knew when the opportunity might arise again, so with that in mind, he entered the coffee place; eye awake in search of anything edible and not outdated when he caught sight of an elderly couple at the head of the bathroom resting on the floor.

They appeared quite old; maybe around their mid-eighties from the looks of it, both seniors holding each other close as they slept soundlessly leaned against the bathroom entrance and clutching their belongings in a desperate hold. It brought him a feeling he was uncomfortable with; he was clearly overjoyed at their shared affection and sight they gave him from the hard times, but at the same time an unspeakable indignation at how much things had changed in his absence: the clear signs ordering change ringing like alarms inside his head.

It was better if he left, the carnie decided without hesitation, rotating to another exit on a big window when some shouts came from the street outside and then a startled gasp followed, giving him instance to throw his attention briefly to the couple behind him and taking into their scared state after ducking with grace into a column and taking a look outside, providing himself a moment to throw a finger into his lips behind the scarf and suggest silence from the pair sharing the space. The woman nodded with a frenzied look, obviously petrified while the man grasped at her scared out of his wits and Dick glared behind his sunglasses; angry at the disturbance that caused the seniors such discomfort. Hopefully it wasn't a known evil; as far as his investigations while on the road had taught him, Old-Chicago was a zone for scattered refugees or a Ghost state, but one could never know.

Risking a calculating glance, the first sidekick scanned the outside, being throughout on the inspection of the zone when he saw some teens flapping their arms out while running at the end of the street causing the commotion. They appeared scared and then as quick as that hypothesis was out he moved from his spot with barely four steps, looking for the source of panic with no success.

A frown was masked from his features, and after waiting a full ten minutes he relaxed his pose, whirling his small feet towards the seniors who still kept their eyes trained cautiously on him. Dick eased his hands out; a suggestion offering he wanted nothing from them and wasn't looking for trouble that made the elders relax a little on their spot.

At what had the world reduced into if two full-grown adults feared a small child to such degree? He removed the thought from his mind-eye, not desiring in the least to be left with more sour notes on his mouth as he cleared his throat beneath the material covering his mouth.

"Hi Sir, Ma'am, my name's Malone—Robbie Malone," he said, attempting to show his smile within his voice and watching with fulfillment the woman's shoulders relax considerably at his friendly pitch, "I was just looking for some shade is all. Didn't mean to 'cause any trouble, sorry." He finished, the lady smiling faintly while the man looked less cautious after he finished his statement.

In all fairness he had gotten in to get a break from the shade, and he had been Robbie Malone longer than what he currently sported.

"It's alright dear," the woman spoke in gentle tones and he nodded in return, "you just spooked us a little. You never know with how things are these days," then her smile became tremulous-nostalgic, "but I imagine you weren't here to see how things used to be to understand it child."

He coughed a little into his wardrobe to feign understanding and the other male cleared his throat, standing-up and covering the female.

"Listen boy, I'm sorry if you're on your own," then he cleared his throat as well, ignoring the look his wife—probably—was throwing at him, "are you on your own son?"

Dick shrugged non-committed.

"Oh Kurt take it easy! He's just a little child!" The woman slapped him on the back of his legs, but the man paid her no mind, instead turning an angry glare at her.

"Dammit Christine, it's the same story with you! It doesn't matter if he's a kid or not, we're not giving him our provisions or taking him with us!"

Oookaaaayyy, better to dissolve the tension now, lest things get a little overheated.

"Um, Sir?"

"He's just a little child!"

"It doesn't matter—he's not our child—"

"Excuse me? Mister? I'm actually looking for someone too," he said, grabbing both elders' attention and nothing with special detail that the woman, for all she moved around, wasn't making a twitch below her waist; it reminded him of Barbara, and instantly shook those thoughts off. _'Focus, you'll see her later.' _He thought shrugging one shoulder off and mimicking a disheveled appearance for acting purposes that served to calm the seniors down, "not alone; just lost."

"Oh dear," the woman named Christine murmured and gripped her husband's leg tightly in search of attention, "Kurt please, the least we can do is offer him shelter for today while he finds his parents."

"…" Kurt sighed in what Dick recognized was defeat and dared a chary look at him, "you'll be the death of us woman, but I guess that's why I love you. Okay kid, you said your name was Robert right?"

"Robbie." Dick corrected instantly, then shook his head. "Its fine Mister, but I could use some directions, my cousins are supposed to live here somewhere." He finished, gaining a new set of attention altogether.

"Oh my, what are they like dear? Perhaps we've heard of them—there's really few people around the streets here, and we mostly know each other around." Her husband scoffed in front of her.

"Yes, unless you want to have a bat on your head by some punks a little older than yourself if you trespass their grounds or something." He grunted out, not the least pleased at the amenity Mrs. Christine was making, though she rendered no mind to him on it.

Dick just moved from one foot to another a little uncomfortably, looking small on his own accord.

_Awkward._

The woman just smiled politely at him, and it eased his tension at the obvious circumstances he was yet trying to swallow.

"Don't mind my husband dear, tell us, what are your cousins' names or what do they look like? There's no one in here my old mind doesn't know, and I'll be sleeping better at night if I know for sure a good little boy like yourself is safe indoors with adults." She said with that kind smile, stifling a cough in between words and he nodded in return; hope was not lost after all.

* * *

><p><em>~-18:45hrs. Unknown location, Ruins of Old-Chicago, Illinois.<em>

It had been a while since he stopped after the talk with the elderly pair, moreover Mrs. Hoffman had been so kind that she immediately told him into the right directions to whom she asserted were her lost family members he had been trying to find. By now, however, he was too thirsty to keep bypassing his need for liquid, so after going non-stop and avoiding the troublesome spots Mr. Hoffman was heedful to warn, he sidestepped into a clearing road, free of trucks and trashed cars with piles of garbage every step of the way, right next to some dead trees trying to find his path amongst all the trash in sight.

So far he hadn't run into more pedestrians, harmful or otherwise, and he was yet to be reassured by the comparison on the note alone. It had been a good change for his sanity to chat with another living being that seemed less than interested in cutting his head off and using him as sustainable nutritious material. The compulsive stabs beneath his Sternum had lost consistency on their sporadic attacks; the residual pain still remaining but with much less force involving the sudden blows at his insides, and it lifted his mood significantly not having to worry about falling into a quivering mass for an undetermined amount of time on no certain moments of the day.

Jays would be elated to hear about it, Dick considered making a face hidden from the world as he walked ahead, though considering it, Jason would probably be resented from being proven wrong. A grin found himself attached to his lips at the notion.

It was always good to have his first successor frowning in retrospect with being outsmarted.

Suddenly he caught sight of something shimmering in the sun and inched closer to find a better inspection, finding underneath a pretty obviously-placed pile of random dump one freshly polished 'Cased Colt Roy Rogers' (if his memory didn't failed him that is) standing innocently with the junk at hand.

… really? Dick let out a little puff of laughter at the silly notion of a trap—if it even could be called that.

Somebody needed to be pretty desperate or fool enough to fall on that one. Deciding this was worth his time (it was pretty obvious the perpetrator had put everything in himself or herself to attract the attention of any innocent or not so innocent bystander to get their hands on the other's personal belongings; or maybe something worse, but he'd considered it if more evidence pointed that later) he searched for anything that could serve him as leverage, finding almost immediately a long stick and adjusting his sight on the dry plant over him and the trap. It was easy to climb the branches, and his weight allowed him to stay over them without breaking the weak extremities, soon enough leaving him just a meter length-wise distance from the object of his attention. He placed his bottom on the branch, quickly adjusting his weight upside down and using his knees to remain in said position as he extended his arm with the stick at hand and moved the junk over the gun, expecting the trap to fall into action.

The soonest the stick grazed away the weight on top of the firearm he'd been proven right when a wire-strength cage closed itself on the stick, breaking it in two instantly. Dick had to summarize it was a pretty impressive triangular cage, if not a little on the small side, wondering who and how on earth did some civilian managed to get their hands on it. For now it was only logical to assume the simple trap wasn't part of Leviathan's—or Superman's for that matter—army since it lacked their O.M.; this clearly belonged to some person with a little too much on their free time to get acquainted with a) an impressible well-maintained Colt, and b) an equally impressible well placed strength based cage.

Somebody in here did some serious studying, and he double-copied the action by passing once again his covered eyeball over the ground where nothing stood amiss.

_'Wait,' _His mind ordered, halting him to the spot.

A few meters on his left there was a big group of teenagers succumbing to the curiosity the strenuous movement had erupted and nearing his spot. He supposed he'd handle the youngsters if the need came, and doubted they would even take notice of his frame hanging meters above them from the tree.

None of them were clean, which was an understatement with how much they lacked in personal hygiene, and were quite… '_rambunctious' _as Alfred would state if he were here himself, while they neared his spot. Like he had guessed, the teens were too preoccupied with pushing themselves off and just being plain boyish in their own as they got closer to the mark that had the mini-prison to see him perched above it.

"Shit man, this will really give us a hand with gettin' those bastards at 5th and Main, sweet!" A rather filled teen gathered out, pressing with his elbow at one blonde who nodded greedily.

"Yeah, and that pig-tailed bitch? Ha! See if she fucks with us again!" Said blonde responded, gaining a leer from some of his friends who 'got the message'.

Dick just glared. Bristling in contained anger at the suggestion before calming himself down. They were just a bunch of kids who saw a gun and thought they could play being men.

"What the hell is that man?" One of them asked to the oldest of the bunch; a murky kid with some lose teeth (probably from fighting) as he scratched his greasy cranium and touched the metal bars forming the confined capture of air.

"How the fuck should I know Pencildick?" The one who had been asked answered arrogantly, pushing the first who spoke with his foot towards the dirt to move him from the trap, and Dick found himself insulted.

Sometimes it really wasn't funny how people used his name for mockery or derogatory purposes. One would think he was used to it by now.

"Argh! Watch it dumbass! Fucking prick!" Another one cursed when the one pushed fell on his dirty sneakers, and he kicked away, spitting at the teenager's back in distaste.

"Was that really necessary?"

At his blurted-out question the eight heads beneath him rotated in different directions, searching for him at the same time.

"Up here geniuses." He followed immediately in a joyous mockery-fashion; response to the failure from being found.

He raised an eyebrow beneath his glasses, and even him could sometimes admit that the turn-about of age affected his judgment from time to time; mostly when he found himself succumbing to the juvenile need to be a smartass with—mostly—older bullies.

A total of eight glares went up to him; teeth and nostrils flaring at the sight of a small child trying to get smart at their expense.

Boy, did this brought out some memories.

"Hi guys, how's it been? You looked _disconcerted_." The acrobat furthered the mocking with a crackle behind his childish voice, swinging merrily from the branch. His muscles jumped at the opportunity to stretch by knocking some sense into these bullies if they even considered walking away with the Colt.

There was a treacherous thought entering his mind as he thought of taking is as a souvenir for Jason—and bribery; the older raven had not been amused at being left behind.

Then again, he had been searching for something 'techy' for Tim—

"What the fuck do you want kid?" The oldest of their ragtag group yelled; his brown locks disheveled all over the place and pointing a clean knife at him that was almost touching his face where he perched upside down on the branch from the teen's advantageous height. "Think you're so smart now wuss?" He threatened with a sick smirk on his freckled tanned features at the leverage he thought he'd gained with the sharp object almost connecting to his head. "Better if you empty your fuckin' pockets now you little shit, less I might not be so forgiving to let you go home and cry to your mommy." The twisted rise of his lips grew, and Dick was faraway reminded of a smile that stretched longer and was always disguised in shades of red.

The others stood behind the 'leader', all pointing something sharp—broken bottles, penknives, one even had a rusty razor for crying out loud—and surrounding him.

"But what if I like it here? It's really comfy and you guys are so funny to watch; it's like monkeys at the circus." He laughed at his inner private joke, swinging without a care in the world—his purpose was settled beyond the point of no return; he was certain these were the 'punks a little older than himself' that kept every refugee on their toes; he was already ready to pounce to the first objective, he just needed to rile them up a little more to get them in one full-out free style array of moves.

"Says the monkey who will be dinner you fuckin' little fag!" One of the boys shouted, aiming the utensil at him and failing when height was not very forgiving to him and stepping into another one of his bunch's space, sending both to the ground in a mess of grunts and obscenities, and Dick just laughed at the action, pointing in juvenile glee at the failed demonstration of dominance.

Hey, he might as well enjoy the ride; it had been a while since he laughed as an immature little kid, and restraining took his toll most of the times in this frame. Besides, it was better than dwelling on the revelation they left out in the open. Cannibalism was a known practice in here Tim told him while they talked on his bedroom more than a month ago; at such a young age it stung.

"Get—**ahh fuck!"** A raven shot out, falling into his face a second after he uttered his first word.

Immediately his stare flickered: eyebrows furrowing in concentration at what he thought he had seen on a corner almost at the end of the block where an old department building was barely left standing before the first boy went down a few meters back; all signs of playfulness gone and replaced with the stern look he'd adopted more as the years grew on him. There had been a flash of color there, of that he was sure and no sooner than the dash disappeared did he saw it again when an orange mass of hair suddenly sprang to life on the soil below him, spreading open the cage in a quick sequence of movements and placing the teens into their well-deserved places with hands tied on the bars in a full-out circle; a mess filled with curses and very unmanly screeching.

He couldn't stop the cheerful grin that overcame his features; the scarf almost riding at his nose from the gravity he forgot had him inverted position-wise.

It was all over one second too soon, and grumbling male teenagers were left in the background as he took the welcome sight of one fifteen-year old Iris West (II) in a washed-out yellow shirt with a denim skirt that reached a little over her knees and some old tennis that had seen better days; he found happiness on the simple fact of watching that grown pretty-freckled face with a smile attached that instantly reminded him of his best friend in every single way.

"Hi boys! Mind if I join the fun? _Ooohh,_ what's that? Is that for me? Looks pretty, I think I'll take it! Thank you!" She spoke in those hurried conjunctions of words that only speedsters were capable of uttering; picking the fallen artifacts that used to be the weapons of those overly-enthused bullies and dashing off in the distance to return four seconds after without them on her arms.

"Go fuck yourself bitch!" The lucky 'man in charge' spit out; his cheeks red in contained anger at being easily overpowered by a preteen with barely a sign of resistance.

"C'mon Flynn, you don't mean that," she chastised him, crossing her arms and forming an adorable pout that resembled the one Dick knew she usually reserved for her father; an imitation that soared his feelings towards his niece, happy Mrs. Hoffman had pointed him out in the correct way towards the West's kids (more like twins, but they didn't needed to know that) in the first place, "besides what did I tell you about roaming around here?" She spoke, sticking what he brought out as a particularly nasty sock at the brunette's mouth in the blink of an eye. Then she casted him a look and smiled prettily, conveying confidence and friendliness in the only way a Member of the Flash Family was able to, "Are you okay little guy?" she asked gently in normal speech tones that was considered slow for their standards, offering him a tranquil upraise of the corner of her lips. "They didn't do anything to you, right?"

It was then he figured he'd better move his gear.

"No, I'm fine." He spoke and the girl couldn't manage the girly squeal in delight at his child-like voice chords. If Dick had been any less sure of his virility, he'd been severely damaged by the reaction, instead he grinned and attempted—by faking of course—to stand up again and reach upward into a standard position, grunting when he couldn't and went down again in a sigh, having the speedster peer at him with worry care right below him and offering her arms for him to let go, promising to catch him.

"It's okay—I'll catch you. You can let go." She spoke unable to censor her quick words coming in a blur. "I promise I'll catch you. Don't be scared. I won't hurt you. I'm a good guy. And I'll take you to your parents. They must be worried." Irey told him in a dash, her smile unwavering and Dick found his opening.

"… okay." He answered, swinging one foot out of the dead wood and then the other one after it, falling straight into the speedster's arms. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Come on, let's get out of here." The redhead smiled, placing him in the ground and it was a funny panorama to see Irey towering over him for a little over a head now, needing to stretch up his neck to watch her. He noticed she had taken the gun with all the disarrayed utensils but decided against speaking of it; it was one point for him on nailing the reason of the firearm's existence. "Your parents must be worried, and these guys need some time to think about their actions."

He nodded, getting near the one male that got grief and spit by derision of his companions and watching him burrow his front in anguish at what he probably thought he'd do to him. Instead, the acrobat got further, going as far as standing almost face to face with him by kneeling just a smidge to be on his level.

"It's tough out there, but there are better people and nothing's worth this." He whispered so that only the teen and maybe the two at his sides could hear him. "We're not many, so that's why we need to help each other instead of blocking another's path." He took his scarf off just a little below his chin. "And you'll find everything can be overcome." At the look of hurtful angry-disbelief he removed his sunglasses, making sure to keep the eye-contact steady even with his uneven gaze, and the swallow behind the older male's end was enough to satisfy him; sure of the change he'd just make.

"Come on. I'll get you something to eat. You must be starving!" The cheeky voice meters behind provided, and he nodded from his spot, not breaking the gaze locked with the teen, and slowly smiling at him with his full-blown grin.

Every change was important, and little by little, they would make the difference.

As would others who learned the lesson.

* * *

><p><em>~-19:01hrs. Unknown destroyed Bistro, Ruins of Old-Chicago, Illinois.<em>

"Mom! Jai! Are you here?" Irey yelled as she entered through a barricaded entrance by the side of the building they've built two years ago. They had settled in the city, and she and her brother had taken it in themselves to restore the peace on this town by providing protection to the remaining citizens. It had been a while back since her brother had deviated all their arsenal of tricks to bring out the bullies that kept harassing the poor people who just did their best to get-by without mixing into Leviathan's proclaimed cities. Her twin had devised a way to let them know when a trap got activated, which was how Irey found herself acquainted with her new cute-little friend.

She casted a green curious stare at the very much covered-up child keeping a low profile at her side. She was sure the kid wasn't bad news; the poor boy had probably had the scare of his life when those bullies tried to overpass him, and she was glad she had been there just in time to stop a tragedy from happening.

By the way, where was her family? The young speedster thought frantically, her brain coming into the realization that today was Monday, and every Monday her Mother went over to the Linchpin's with her brother to recollect clothes and find new safe places to stay in case an emergency stroke.

"They're not here?" Her friend asked, and she couldn't stop her friendly smile as she leaned on the soles of her over-ran feet back and forth.

"I forgot they are busy today! But don't worry, we can find something to eat!" Then she dashed off and came back with a dozen of cans, her twin pig-tails moving at a par with her movements and framing her adoring face wonderfully.

Wally would be really proud of his little girl; Dick would make sure to let him know of her.

"We have tuna and beans! Do you like beans? Everybody likes beans! We can cook them until my mom and brother come here and search for your parents. You must be tired, you can take a break in here and have a nap after you've eaten something." She told the child, speaking a mile per second without actually trying; her brother and mother were too used to her that sometimes it was hard to censor herself to speak regularly to the point where she didn't register what she did at all.

"I'm okay, thanks." He told her, not removing an ounce of textile over him to keep his eyes shielded from those emerald orbs that he just couldn't stop placing in another redhead's face in nostalgia. "You're very pretty." Dick told her sincerely, watching with care only an uncle would feel the timid red going into his niece's cheeks. This was it, he thought before bracing himself and taking his cue. "Are you Flash's kid?"

Irey stuttered, some cans falling from her arms in shock and then he removed the scarf from his face to show his infectious grin that didn't portray any malice on it; an action that thankfully, made her relax.

"How do you—?"

"My dad knew Flash," he spoke with conviction, all the while thinking that he could go through this whole process without actually "lying" to the girl. Bruce _did _in fact knew the Flash—all of them incidentally. "You ran fast—and he knew he had two kids too." Then he shrugged timidly. "He respected the Flash a lot… I do too."

"Oh." Irey uttered flabbergasted. Sure, she'd get the occasional pedestrian identifying her as one of the legendary Flash's kids, but that a boy so young could tell the difference was pretty amazing. "Thank you," At the warm words filled with that boyish grin she couldn't help to keep her smile either, "he was amazing. It means a lot that people still remember him like that. Where's your dad? I would love to talk with him! Did he live in Keystone City too?"

"… he's… around." The carnie responded uncertainly, the change in the speedster's demeanor easy to catch. "He's with my brothers and sister, and I came here looking for help." Then he lifted his head some more to add the effect he needed; then he was rewarded with it.

"Tell me what you need. Where are they—are they okay? Did anyone take them?" The redhead asked frantic, worried for the small kid and kneeling to grab him by his shoulders.

"No, I just need to go to Mexico." He spoke with confidence to demonstrate his seriousness on the matter. "Can you take me? I promise that's all I need, and you don't have to stay there if you don't want to. You can come back. I just _really_ need to go there."

"Mexico? What for? Are they there?"

He shook his head, "My… mom sent me there to find someone. They can't go, but I can, and I need to get there but I don't have any way to do it so I came searching for help. Because they told me you were here." Then he fisted both hands tightly. _"Please. _Help me. You said you would."

She could only stare in helpless at the strange request; completely unprepared at this turn of direction. Here was this kid she had known for barely twenty minutes and he was already asking her to take him to another country for something he wasn't even talking about; sprouting wonderful things of her father and his siblings and she just _didn't know _what to do about it.

What would her **_dad_**, do about it…?

"… okay; let me get some things and tell my mom and brother. I'll take you there, but I want some answers." The girl returned with hero-conviction; her sense to help everywhere she could strong on her role to live-up her family's legacy.

She'd never let her Legacy running through her veins disappear.

The Flash family was not extinct.

* * *

><p><em>~-20:24hrs. Unknown location just meter's from the border of Mexico.<em>

"And then there was this one time The Flash went to this town with a black-and-blue guy and got lost in a maze and saw a red-fountain with blood, but it wasn't blood at all[1]!" Dick said excited to his niece as they took a little break and he got off her back to let her take a breath. They've been going nonstop for more than an hour; the sky had turned dark and the air around them had lowered considerably as they approached the middle of the nightly hours and only speeded in the limits of Irey's well calculated velocity limits.

It was clear the redhead was being careful with how fast she went considering the cargo on her back, and while Dick appreciated it, he couldn't help but to want to tell her she could run a little faster since her father was certainly not privy to the speed he took most of the times with him on his back. Of course that wouldn't end well, and it was just his immatureness broadcasting.

"Really? Now that you mention it, I think my dad told me that story once too!" The teen spoke amicably and fairly excited at the sudden spark of recognition of that tale; her dad told her he had been on a trip with her Uncle Dick at the time and like every single vacation the duo took, it ended with both of them having to put the tights on like The Flash, and Nightwing. This kid's father must have been one of the citizens her dad spoke to on a regular basis, if not, how else would he know that to tell the tale to his son?

It just made her happy to help him all the more. She had been somewhat worried when all she could was offer a brief explanation to her family and Jai had wanted to go with her, but a thirteen-year old boy[2] mixing with an eight-year old boy was not good news. She'd seen the infectious grin the kid had thrown at her brother.

Iris was _not _going to deal with boyish antics.

Dick stopped walking, staring straight ahead with barely restraining a muscle and gaining the teen's attention full-out.

"Robbie? What happened—?" She started blurting out; emeralds fixated on the infant at her side while he just nodded straight ahead without losing his sight despite of the sunglasses on the dark afternoon.

"I think we're here."

Iris raised a thin ginger eyebrow in question.

"What makes you say that?"

_"That." _He just pointed at the forefront.

It was ridiculous how after he finished the statement and the speedster whoosh her freckled face to watch closely in the dark skies, an unbelievably numerous quantity of fire-weapons were charging at them with lasers covering at least 87 percent of their body masses.

"¡Levanten las manos y tírense al piso o dispararemos![3]" One deep baritone yelled in fluent Spanish at both kids; an imperative command that while it wasn't understood to its peak, broadcasted the message crystal clear:

Surrender, or die.

Iris went to move ahead to shield the infant; sirens flaring at her head; adrenaline high the moment her quick feet placed her in front of Robbie when at least five different shots—and those were the one's she _heard_—missed her spot by a millisecond and then proceeded to fire at her new position, where she just squealed in surprise and got back instinctively, shielding the boy behind by pushing him at the same time with her body.

"Hey! That's rude! What are you thinking? There's a little boy in here!" She screamed at them in righteous fury with her fast speech, and if the sun had been present the reds on her cheeks remarking her fury would have been notorious to everybody. She squealed in shock again when another bullet went by her right cheek, almost grazing her skin and her eyes widened to a ridiculous degree at her inhale of breath taken by feeling a bullet so near her face.

This situation was escalating way too fast. Robbie and her needed to get out of there, but the amount of weapons aiming at their bodies were too much to risk sweeping her friend off his feet and dashing off; even with her super speed, Irey was sure that at least some of the projectiles would make it through. She wasn't afraid of that for herself; a couple of days or more depending on the amount of pellets hitting her skin to have her accelerated metabolism heal her was all it took, but she couldn't risk the Robbie's life on a slim possibility of him going by unscathed.

"Iris, **don't** run." The circus carnie told the girl from behind, hoisting his hands in clear surrender and keeping his façade cool. Over the time and throughout a constant amount of practice he'd accustomed himself to watch closely on the dark enough to distinguish siluettes, objects etcetera while on the job, even _without _the additional aid of his domino mask and high-tech lenses, so Dick _could _actually see in the dark terrain the profiles of at least thirty-seven men and forty-two women alike holding their weapons against them.

But Irey couldn't. How could she when she wasn't trained for that?

Keystone wasn't Gotham, and even then, his niece had been far too young when she started wearing a mask and the family logo. Wally hadn't been allowed the opportunity to teach her that far along the road. Or let him do it.

_'No time like the present time.' _He thought grim regarding his last line of thinking before his attention was cut by his niece.

"What?" She asked him as she risked a glance at her back and saw him getting on his knees with orbs wide in fear for him. "What are you doing? Stop! They're going to shot—!"

He touched her wrist on his way down, ignoring her surprised gasp at another array of bullets almost grazing their united limbs.

"¡No volveremos a repetirlo! ¡Levanten las manos y tírense al piso o abriremos fuego! ¡Esta es una Zona Restringida y no tienen permiso de pasar![4]" The same voice yelled once more in a fluent succession of words the West girl couldn't understand for the life of her, turning her green gems from the fully-packed soldiers to the defenseless boy with worry heavy on her gaze.

"They won't. We are trespassing, and they're just protecting their home. Just _stand down_." He emphasized as he finally managed to lower her enough when he didn't put a stop on his descent to the dirt and just placed his cheek completely against the cold soil; Iris following shortly in an awkward array of limbs as she attempted to curl unto him with her middle pressing the black locks of his head from where she used to stood.

Her heart was truly that of a speedster, and instantly afterwards Dick could hear the hurried steps of the military covering more of their ground and nearing them; the red lights of their arsenals still adjusted on them when he felt the teenage girl tensing at her natural reaction of fleeing the scene at soon as possible and the heat of human bodies at least three meters from them.

The acrobat had purposely left his good eye-ball facing upwards; the additional effect of the dark sunglasses impeding his eye-sight ever so slightly to watch the torn-boots of the man standing the nearest to them in preparation.

It was okay; Selina told him it'd be like this.

"¡Comando número 1, aseguren la zona, comando número dos, conmigo![5]" He ordered and a different set of feet and voices moved from spots, but Dick just squeezed the ginger's wrist, feeling her rate faster than the speed her feet could take to reassure her everything was okay. Suddenly, that same voice came back, if not a little closer and he got a good look at the man who was pointing a very sophisticated M-1943 with laser adapted aiming at the girl's head, and he had to restrain himself with all his might to stop from jumping and landing a well-placed kick at the man's jaw. He was only doing what he thought was the safest answer, seeing how they were now with the knowledge of the teen's meta powers. "Comando dos, aseguren a los intrusos; revisen por armas u objetos de riesgo. Cuidado con la muchacha, es una meta.[6]"

_'Yep,' _he thought resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation, _'they know it.'_

"Hey! Easy with the hands!" Iris yelled insulted at the women who searched her pockets and just about everything else. "Wait, that's not what it looks like! I swear! It's for good purposes!" She defended herself with her fast speech when a woman found the Colt on her bag while Dick was being search through himself.

"General, encontramos una pistola Colt en la bolsa de la niña, pero está vacía.[7]" She spoke handing the offensive object over to the man in charge, and he took a calculating gaze at them.

"¿Qué están haciendo aquí un par de niños a tan altas horas de la noche y cargando un arma vacía?[8]"

Iris frowned; not pleased in the slightest at the treatment and at being unable to comprehend what they were talking. She contemplated for a brief span if this was how regular people felt whenever she spoke, but dismissed the comparison right away due to her uncomfortable spot on the floor.

"Can you speak english? I'm sure this would be easier to explain. We don't want to 'cause troubles and my brother will kill me if I don't get him that back." She spoke in what she considered was a normal speed speech but got no response, sighing in defeat. "This. Is hopeless."

"Venimos en paz.[9]" Dick told them, _"Always wanted to say that~!" _he whispered in a very enthused sentence to a shell-shocked Iris. ("You know Spanish?") Before turning to the others again. "No estamos con Leviathan ni con Superman, pero venimos buscando ayuda.[10]" At the permanent silence and obvious tense figures surrounding them Dick swallowed heavily. "Por favor, sólo queremos detener la guerra.[11]" Some faces on the back shuffled, and he saw his opportunity arising. "Ella es la hija del legendario héroe Flash,[12]" he added with conviction on his fuel, ignoring the startled gasp of many others merged with the aforementioned girl in favor of helping their cause, "por favor, ocupamos su ayuda para encontrar a alguien.[13]"

"¿A quién quieren encontrar?[14]" A female asked from behind the 'General', earning a well-placed glare on her as she straightened her posture to her commander in chief. "¡Señor, si ellos son aliados de Flash es nuestro deber ayudarles, Señor![15]"

"Estamos buscando a la familia del Escarabajo Azul; es urgente encontrarlos.[16]" Dick brightened, finding the ray of light he was searching and quickly placed himself before the General found his tongue, not missing in the least when the same woman that had defended their cause stilled just like all military at hand. The dead silence following his statement lasted for what appeared to be hours before her voice resonated again.

"… ¿qué saben del Escarabajo Azul?[17]" She asked with coldness on her voice and the acrobat risked getting to a sitting position to lock his gaze at the dark figure in the night, not sparing a fleeting thought to anybody else in the penumbra.

_'Bingo.'_

* * *

><p><em>~-21:04hrs. Daily Planet Edifice, Omicron-Metropolis.<em>

Superman sighed, clearly agitated beyond belief as he waited for his second-hand to appear in the doors of his old office. Clark had been suffering the loss from Alpha back in Old-Louisiana for months now, and the pressure of Leviathan breathing on his neck after the disaster here on Omicron-Metropolis that resulted in the complete destruction of their Military Forces Department, Laboratories and experiments included, he added with a grimace, had been a big hit to the Man of Steel with their Lord.

As if the situation wasn't precarious enough with losing Alpha and having Bruce every step after him; destroying random pieces of the puzzle that even he wasn't understanding the point but wasn't stupid enough to let it go through; he had fought with the Dark Knight long enough to know there was nothing the ex-billionaire did without a plan ahead.

It scared him. Everything was falling apart, and to make matters worse, Diana wasn't giving him the time of the day, turning more antagonistic and downright cold with him since that faithful day on Old-Louisiana. Ollie wasn't answering most of his calls, insisting on watching over his granddaughter because he claimed the arrow-kid was sick or something. And to add to the pile of bad news, he had no idea what was going on with Beta.

Where was Dinah? He wondered, glancing at the golden clock fixated on the wall as it kept running-by with no care for his suffering. She was supposed to be here hours ago!

Was she planning to betray him too…?

Clark shook his head, cleansing the sweat made from the exertion he suffered from his own mind.

_'No,' _he thought, clearing his throat and glancing at the pictures on the computer screens at his back with the lines of his face hardening, _'she wouldn't risk doing that. She still has something to lose.' _The man consoled himself as he raised a big hand at the burning screen from the monitor that held a picture of a young man battered from his feet to his head. Unconscious.

_'She's one of the few who still has the privilege to say that.'_

"I apologize for the wait my Lord," came the voice of the woman he had been thinking about, and he dropped his hand from the picture on the screen to rely his heavy glare at the bleached blonde who stood proudly on her clean uniform with her arms at each side; waiting for orders.

"Let's just not let that happen **again **Black Canary." The Man of Steel said sure the message was clear even when she just gave a nod in confirmation. "What have you gathered of Beta and Gamma?"

"Nothing my Lord. I was awaiting your specific instructions after the report of damages I sent you of Alpha, followed by the recent attack here to Omicron-Metropolis, your home."

He wasn't sure if it sounded right, Superman thought considering the options with difficulty.

"My Lord, if I may, it'd be better if you considered providing me with the information regarding the following Greek Points," and Clark sent her a glare that was flashing red with his laser-beams on the brink of turning her into ashes at the suggestion, if their Lord hadn't deem Canary with an answer regarding something only he and Leviathan himself were to know, then the blonde had no business meddling or asking for that, "I know it's not protocol, and that its Confidential, but given the circumstances it's best if we prevent the destruction of Beta and Gamma and Delta, and Epsilon from now. You know I'm loyal to no one else but you, and Batman has gotten bolder in these past months to the point where we can no longer afford ourselves the luxury of going unprepared to war." She spoke and the old reporter bristled in anger; she was right, naturally, but it wasn't easy to swallow that the woman was so capable most of the times, even when she had turned into his lapdog. It's just that, the whole option of disclosing the four point locations was too risky to consider, but Bruce **had **gotten bolder…

…what if he already knew of them and by some miracle the place wasn't blown to pieces at that moment, or if Canary wasn't there to prevent a tragedy like what could have happened if the Bats had gotten inside the Military Department…? Was it really worth the risk?

And his life…?

* * *

><p><em>~-21:07hrs. Ruins of New York City, New York.<em>

The day had been lazy, the Amazonian warrior supposed as she stretched languorously on the impeccably new-furniture that was at the terrace of her acquired house on the otherwise-ruined city that was known to never sleep. Her hair was wet, the natural curls drying in the cold air that swept across her god-like features she inherited when her mother, Hippolyta, created her from the clay on the shore of Paradise Island, dampening the white folds that covered her strong curves and muscles, creating an opalescent figure that made her remind her origins where the Gods had been merciful instead of unforgiving.

But she had learned her place, and the wisdom of Athena had taught her to swallow her pride and accept humbly her mistakes.

It had been nights since she had approached another living organism; being rather condescending to share her space with other creature, or another of her allies.

The Queen had made some research in vain, having felt cheated by the likes of Superman of Black Canary after the last two major events had occurred that left her with a sour taste and suspicions high on her privileged brain Hera had granted. Unfortunately, after weeks searching for clues to reveal the lies and treacherous undercover plots by the same ones she had come back empty handed and had secluded herself in her home in order to avoid meeting the snakes that offered her the apple.

"Why, such a _pathetic_ sight you offer," A female with sultry tones invaded her peace on her sanctuary, and the exiled Warrior within her roared in fury with the power of Rhea, "makes me wonder if I'm really correct in searching your assistance."

"Talia al Ghul," Diana worded with disbelief and repressed rage at the sight the other female made in her black regal-like clothing with the same brown hair and beautifully exotic feature, age aside. "What on Hera do you want and _what _are you doing here?" She asked; as far as she had understood, nobody had heard anything from the Daughter of the Demon eons ago. She even had forgotten the woman who had once held Bruce's love far back in a time where she had thought only Selina was in the way of her path with Bruce.

Diana removed those thoughts from her mind, standing up to face her enemy tall. That had been one lifetime ago, and there was nothing else to it now; Bruce had become the enemy long back, and those sentiments were past due her time.

Talia was tall, she had forgotten so; her treacherous mind spacing to the times she'd been standing near the Cat of Gotham where the small female had been nothing but a pebble compared to her tall frame, but Talia while not taller than her, had an advantage in height that placed her in a comfortable middle ground between all three lover-aspirants of the Bat.

"Obviously the powers of observation of the Amazons are far better than this," she chastised her in that arrogant voice and Diana bristled, wondering why Bruce's ex was here of all places. Both women had really no business together, in fact, it was hard to remember a single occasion that had both of them alone for any expanse of time, "but after spending the last years with such brutes like the alien from Metropolis it's no surprise you find yourself preoccupied with such simple trivialities."

Diana stepped forward; her whole countenance ready to pounce when at the blink of an eye, an array of assassins stood between both women. She just stepped forward again, not heeding attention to the blades aimed at her neck.

"You are a wanted criminal, and if you have been helping Batman then by the Gods will I make you regret it and show you justice."

"My Beloved has nothing to do with this, and it's neither your business nor your interest to dwell on the matter. The simple fact that you dare question something beyond your comprehension is weight enough to consider leaving without granting you the help I was so graciously going to offer you." The brunette with matching eyes spoke to her derisively and the Amazonian exiled could see her son in her.

It was disgusting; to know Bruce ever felt something for someone like her when Diana had been so much more.

More than Talia.

More than Selina.

Just **more.**

"What are you talking about?" She questioned instead, fixated on ignoring the melancholic voice inside her mind that kept barking in jealous protests towards something that had no place.

"…" Talia levered her gaze, brown smashing with dark blue and both stood still with the wall of assassins separating each other. "While on my own business to wash out the Scum soiling my feet, my Assassins found something about your valued reporter that might interest you." Then she gave a pointed look at an assassin on her left, "Give her the file." She ordered like the Queen Diana was supposed to be, and the male over-went the sea of ninjas to hand her an envelope that Wonder Woman eyed with distrust and made Talia raise an elegant eyebrow in condescending fashion. "You ought to think well before rejecting my gift Prince," then Diana glared harder at her use of her last name, "while this doesn't translate to us becoming associates and certainly makes no promises of me halting to end your life if I see fit, I have my reasons to grant you a winning card like this one. What you decide to do with it is no concern of mine." Then she nodded to the male holding the enveloped who let it fall to the floor to appear at her retreating figure in the shadows.

Diana kept unmoving, not considering in the least to make something from the vain woman who was taking her leave.

"Do not be a fool to speak of my existence," Talia threatened halting her step and aiming a piercing glare with those almond-colored eyes that shinned in the darkness, "or you'll regret it in the form of those papers, Amazon." The Head of al Ghul finished, disappearing in the darkness with her army at her feet, and Diana was surprised at her lack of desire to pursue and incarcerate the perpetrator that surely aided Bruce on their quest.

At the end she had to admit it was all for the same curiosity Eva had found in the Apple of Sin as she casted a look to the envelope on her terrace mosaics that she picked up before ripping it open; her face hard at what she expected to be inside it.

**"By the Gods—"** The raven whispered, a strong hand making her way to her mouth to avoid releasing the awful truth that had that one picture within the folds of the deceitful woman, and Diana was unable to prevent the trembles of her knees as she fell to the floor completely flabbergasted and powerless to stop her widened pupils staring at the photo she was damaging from the force behind her fingers.

A photo of her sister back when she was alive, in conditions that had the blood on her veins boiling in uncontained rage; her eyes cascading in a fit of uncontrollable wrath and ire at the broken sight and teeth drawing blood from her lips freely.

She had promised Donna to avenge her death long ago, and the vision that right now was permeating her eye-sight _demanded—**ordered**_ retribution of the worst kind.

Once she found out the perpetrators.

* * *

><p><em>~-21:09hrs. Across the Border, <em>_Piedras Negras, Coahuila, México._

"Así que están buscando a la familia del Escarabajo Azul,[18]" The General stated as he stood unmoving from her spot inside the lightened tent while Dick and Irey were kept with two military forces standing guard. He watched with curiosity the simple mended carpet making the tent that, at the very top had half of a plastic coke container that irradiated white light[19] as it was kept suspended on a hole. It appeared to have water stored inside it, and was helping a lot in the dark obscurity that was the Dessert of Coahuila, a trick he was certainly going to consider using on his arsenal of knowledge in the nearby future if it was needed, and that he was going to share with his family. Hopefully he would question more of what was inside the plastic container later to the Mexicans guarding their country.

"Sí," he answered, sparing a hidden glance at the soldier, and even when he could throw a wild guess at how much the glasses were annoying them, nobody uttered a word about it, "es importante encontrarlos lo más pronto posible[20]."

"¿Con qué motivo? Jaime Reyes está muerto, y su familia ocupada cuidando nuestro País. Podemos ofrecerles protección; son sólo niños, y uno de ustedes es descendiente de Flash. Estarían seguros con nosotros si deciden quedarse. Nuestro país ha durado seguro por años[21]." Another heavily-packed female head that used to be outside uttered into the conversation; her General facing both children without deterrent, clearly expressing his acceptance of his soldier's words.

Dick cleared his throat, slapping away Irey's hands aiming at something wrapped in the small table at her right in a patronizing manner that wasn't lost to the soldiers on the small space. He was enthused about the National Military offering as much to help them, but their purpose was very clear; it did, however, provoked a particularly interesting content that he was sure, could be handy in the nearby-future once he settled the deal soon enough.

"Gracias, pero debemos quedarnos en los Estados Unidos," then he made sure to turn his whole head towards the female soldier, "es ahí donde tienen tu joya Milagro. [22]" He spoke gravelly; the room filled with surprised gasps and the redhead's curiosity over the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Salgan. Ahora." That same woman spoke containing her emotion.

"Señorita Reyes, ¿está segura—?" The General asked, approaching the small woman who only glared at him behind her dark-gear glasses, then nodded, turning to the others in the room. "Regresen a sus puestos. ¡Ya![23]" Then, in a matter of discipline seconds, only the three underage people amongst the camp were left alone in the tent.

Iris scratched her hair self-consciously, obviously way too uncomfortable at being unable to comprehend what was happening and staying put for more than five minutes. Dick, however, just loosened the scarf to convey his natural smile at the female who was obviously glaring daggers at him to attempt a less hostile environment.

"How do you know that?" She spoke in perfect english, and the speedster perked considerably at it; her eyes glistening in excitement at finding herself within the conversation once more, and her feet were quicker than her mouth—pretty standard with her and her kin really—and then she was at the girls side, watching down at her with a big smile and matching emeralds until the other girl quickly moved from her place and planted a heavy-automatic rifle pointed at her jaw by instinct, and Iris quickly moved her hands gesturing surrender at the girl's quick reflexes.

"Hey! Take it easy! We're the good guys! I'm sorry I scared you! No harm intended!" The West girl quelled the olive-skinned teen who didn't loosened her hold or stance for that matter. "Um… Robbie? A little help here. I thought she could speak english." She spoke as fast as her feet, thinking that maybe she had overstepped her boundaries by assuming the Mexican knew their language and not just scraps and pieces.

"I **can **speak english." Milagro scoffed out, dropping her weapon from the speedster's jaw and removing her head gear to reveal a pretty tan face with wavy dark-brown almost black hair tight in a bun and some curls falling at her sides; her full lips a caramel color and eyes almost as dark as her hair itself as she squinted an exquisite full eyebrow at them. "I lived in the States for years after all." Then she placed her gaze on the little boy who kept smiling at her and she frowned, crossing her arms over her well-developed chest, and Iris found herself looking at her athlete body for a moment in comparison in the background. "Who are you really kid?"

"Robbie Malone," The circus carnie answered, walking to her to grasp her hand in a friendly gesture, and not expecting _at all _the glare he received from the brunette in the room in response of his name.

"Robbie _Malone?_" The teenage military spoke carefully, scoffing to her side and placing a disbelieving expression on the eight-year old. _"My brother,_ knew the Malone's." Then she watched him with suspicion. "And Jaime never said anything about a little kid living up the empire of the Italian Gangster back in Gotham.[24]"At Iris's surprised gasp and glance to the boy Milagro raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know who he was? And you're Flash's kid?"

"Hey! I just met the kid today, _and _don't discriminate based on family trees!" Iris defended herself in a dash, resuming her stance at Robbie's side once again. "And what do you know? Gotham's not like before, and even Batman is having some troubles to keep the battle with Leviathan."

**"Batman** is doing his best from what we hear here." Milagro debated, placing her arms on her hips to return her watch on the boy who kept waiting for them. "But what I know, is that Matches Malone is no longer _alive,_" she spoke, waiting for any slight misstep the lad could give at her knowledge without success, "is he?"

Dick shrugged non-committed. Selina had taught him the Mexican Army, who had Alberto, and Bianca Reyes as their Leaders, were acutely up to date on their info bank. He also understood the hidden meaning behind the girl's words.

That she knew _exactly, _who Matches Malone was.

Instead of proving to be a problem, it was actually going to help him seal the deal.

"Dad did his best." He answered cryptically, and Iris sighed in irritation. "Irey, if you want, you can go back now." Dick told his niece, a little ashamed she was caught in the midst of all. "I'm fine, and you helped me a lot."

"No. I promised I would help you out." Iris said with conviction before glaring heavily at both of them. "And you two are hiding something." She kept saying at a normal rate to emphasize the importance of this little gathering before crossing her arms. "I'm not going anywhere until I figure out what."

"This is all escalating way too fast," Milagros uttered like a normal teenager blaring her hand against her face in irritation; the first semblance of a girl she was supposed to be hidden underneath all the cargo she sported, "what am I supposed to tell my parents once they find out about this?" She scoffed, crossing her arms again and getting into a staring contest with the youngest of the three.

"… you know, this would be a lot less anticlimactic if you threw away those damn glasses." The olive-skinned girl uttered resentful, and Dick just shrugged in response, making her sigh in defeat and keep acting her age.

It was a well-earned change anyways.

"… how do you know of if?" She asked instead; a defeated tone slipping in her strong countenance that had the other girl burrowing her own slim eyebrows in defeat as well.

"I know people." Dick answered, catching the drill. "And I also know how they snatched it away from you when you were a little kid." Then, to both girl's relief he added, "My mom told me so. She has connections, and she was the one who sent me here to find you."

"What for?" Iris asked, confused at something suggested but unspoken.

"To make them give you back what they took from you." He spoke strongly, impressing both teens at his demonstrations that placed him as someone beyond average by his age. "And give you the chance to find something as well; for you and your family."

"¿…qué?[25]" The Latina asked with emotion straining her voice, not caring how much her hands trembled at being tight fists.

"Closure."

* * *

><p><em>~- 21:11hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"Batman, it's important that you come back to the Cave, there are some important news that you need to be aware of." Tim read to the computer console on the cave. His cast was gone, and his mobility had improved vastly in the last couple of weeks since Jason had "so thoughtfully" broke it. Unfortunately, for the past couple of minutes he'd been attempting contact with his Boss, the Bat hadn't been responding to his urgent codes, blatantly ignoring his requests for an auditory to discuss his recent findings on their Enemies.

He kept trying to locate the Gothamite, knowing Bruce would eventually answer his urgent calls and stop the search that consumed the Dark Vigilante for a second to listen to his report.

"Give it a rest Tim, I'm sure Bruce is busy right now, and will call you back when he has the time." Stephanie told him at his side, placing a sure hand on his shoulder plate in support with her cowl down her face. She had returned from their nocturnal check-up on the Asylum with Cass on her toes to find the third bird of the flock typing furiously at the holographic keyboard and her heart had sunk. The blonde had told Cass with a look that she would handle the bird as the other woman nodded and walked away to the dorms; surely to get a change of attire—at least that was what Steph hoped she did.

What with all the shenanigans poor Cass had to sit through now that Jason had made himself a permanent mix on their household and how the two other male Robins had taken it in themselves to team-up against the third remaining one the poor Wayne girl deserved all the time she could get to relax and be off duty.

"He won't be busy once he finds out what I discovered Steph," Tim shook her off with that detached tone she found was breaking her little by little without his notice, "someone in here needs to keep him alert, and Talia suddenly appearing in the face of the Earth is definitely something that can't wait." He finished telling her, and Steph took a step back in shock.

Talia was alive? How…?

"When did you…?" She sputtered out, confused at this change in events. Tim was right; this couldn't wait. "Talia has been off the radar for years now—we thought she was dead. How and why did she appear after all this time missing?" Then her blue gaze fell on the raven head of Tim who kept trying to communicate with Batman. "Tim," The current Batgirl commanded the attention that was still being denied from her predecessor, and in an array of compressed indignation, she grabbed hold once more of her past love's shoulder, turning him around with resolve and bypassing the icy glare she was receiving from those icy crystals to make her point, "does Damian know?" she asked harshly, and the compressing eyes told her everything she needed to know.

"What should I know Brown?" Another voice came in, and Steph twisted her neck to her back to watch the firm pace of the heir of the Wayne throne walking with all his mighty galore towards them. Jason, the ever-permanent accessory of the teen, a few steps behind with a smoke on his lips and the blonde woman furrowed her brow. Along this past month and a half, their Generation had clearly broken into two parts where she and Tim sided with each other (she mostly did it to protect the man from the other two males residing their hideout) while Jason and Damian had their own group that basically hated everybody around them. Cass had made the mature decision to stay out of any circle, stepping in as mediator (Steph grimaced at the place she was supposed to take was at Cass' side at that, more because she did cared for Damian too; it was just too hard to keep Tim alone on this little groups they formed) in favor of everyone, while Alfred acted the parent part and Bruce was kept out of everything with his usual escape routine.

None had found Dick after he came back, and it was now obvious, after weeks spying on Jason and watching his every move (well, Tim did at least) that the outcast vigilante had been true to his word and hadn't kept the acrobat before they all found him on that fateful day. She knew it, Alfred knew, Cass and Damian knew it, and she was pretty sure Bruce knew it was well.

Except Tim wasn't relenting on accepting it yet, evidence be damned.

"Evidently manners to start with," Tim responded cold towards the teen. Aiming another well deserved frigid glance at the older male that had stopped behind the Homunculus, "though considering your birthright it's understandable you lack them."

Damian glowered in distaste at his elder, standing high in his civvies and crossing his arms over his chest regally.

"You ought to know nothing about my origins you imbecile, and with that, avoid speaking of them as such."

"Ha, speaking like a true al Ghul," Tim stated cynically, enjoying the tense frame he got out from the youngest of their flock as well as the oldest one standing him company.

"Tim, stop it." Stephanie pleaded him as he stood tall, sporting with pride the splinter replacing the cast a couple of days back, courtesy of Leslie, but he ignored her as he touched a screen appearing at his side to provide the recent take of Prince's normal whereabouts.

"Tell me Damian, were you also aware of your mother being alive and plotting with the enemy?" The freshly suited Red Robin—minus the cowl—delivered in a cold punch to the other one, and at his right he felt Stephanie stiffen at the low blow.

_"What?" _Damian yelled out outraged while Jason bristled on his spot.

**"That** is a serious accusation Replacement," The Red Hood vigilante spoke carefully, aiming a well deserved sense of dread at his dangerous profile that made the cave darken, "if there's a moment you might want to take back, it better as fuck be that."

Tim didn't relent, popping instead, on another hologram, a picture of a younger-looking Damian with an assassin on another town.

"I know they've been making contact with you over the first year the War erupted, shortly after Dick's assassination."

"Damian?" Batgirl questioned at the evidence shown, casting a confused stare at the teen who managed to resemble a cat ready to attack.

_"That,_ is _none_ of your business Drake," the Wayne growled out, fisting his hands and avoiding the palpable temptation of slicing the impostor in half with a sword, "like you stated it was long ago, and since my mother had made no attempts to establish a connection with me."

"Hell yes," Jason added to the teen's favor, stepping ahead to block slightly a potentially dangerous situation; besides, if anybody was going to break another one's neck, it sure as hell was going to be _him, _"we don't even know if the bitch's alive."

"Do **not **call my mother a harlot, Todd!"

Jason rolled his head; an act clear as the day since he was without his trusty helmet out of his whole accustomed gear.

"You _clearly_ have a lot to learn about her[26], Babybird."

"Stop it! We are getting off-topic here people!" Steph blurted out, hands out as well carrying her annoyed character at their incessant need to fight each other.

"And _what_ is the topic sweetums?" Jason shot back derisive and Steph gritted her teeth patiently counting to ten. "How Replacement here can't stop being an incompetent piece of meat that consistently need to fuck people off just 'cause he can't get off himself?"

"Jason!" Steph yelled out of her patience at the crude innuendos Jason was blurting out; her cheeks betraying her with a rosy tone and aiming a glance at Damian, hoping the grown man got the point.

If he did, he did a poor demonstration by rolling those blue-greenish eyes of his.

"-Tt-, do not be naïve Brown," Damian amended for his brother, stepping ahead as well to recover his vision on the other band, "I fully comprehend Todd's foul demeanor and he suggests, and while not beyond his level to sprout such obscenities, I understand his trail of logic on it."

"Oh my god," The only women muttered as she passed a hand over her face in agitation. _'Just breathe,' _she kept chanting to herself inside her head.

"The only logic in here that you two can understand is that what brings you together is the same dark nature that eats you away." Tim threw right back, another picture opening for the audience's eyes and basking in their perplexed and anguished expressions when this one demonstrated the well-known face of Talia al Ghul standing face to face with Diana Prince in the latter's place; a ninja handing the Amazon something out. "And that even if you didn't know she was alive, now you know she _is _plotting with the enemy. So if she comes to search for you again, you might want to be aware of it beforehand."

* * *

><p><em>~-22:13hrs. Passing the Border, <em>_Piedras Negras, Coahuila, México._

"Are you sure about this?" Dick asked the fleeing teen with a heavy bag on her small shoulders as the trio made their way around the security surrounding the Eagle Pass Border[27]. "Maybe it would be better if you told your parents—"

_"No." _She spoke with a Spanish enunciation, ducking away with them in the penumbra. "They wouldn't understand, and would just send me back to Aguascalientes to keep me safe," at that she frowned beneath her own scarf; she had stayed in her military get-up, bringing her helmet and glasses too for future use as well as a heavy array of fire and white weapons in case they were needed. Her parents had taught her well once the Enemy had taken her brother's life, and on the passing years, the Reyes' had united with the Mexican Army and kept a tight leash on the Country's well being to the point where they had needed to show her the ropes for her own protection. During some of her recent scouting's searching for survivors across the border, Milagro had found many atrocities that she wished she hadn't at the time, but that now where preparing her and her newly appointed friends for the heavy path ahead, "we can do this. If what you're saying is true, I _need _to go with you guys." She stared hard at the other two who kept their faces glued to hers, understanding the emotion. "Jaime would think so too."

"I'm staying too." Iris suddenly spoke out, glancing at both her companions seriously. "This is too big, and there's no way you're trying this on your own without me. My dad would be ashamed of me if I left, and I wouldn't allow myself to do it anyways. I'm a Flash. Period."

"This won't be easy, you girls know that, right?" Dick asked, already prepared with his future plans. Once they seized their price, Milagro could easily return to Mexico for assistance of the Mexican Army once the chips fell into place. She had assured as much, and with Iris' help and the rest of the Bat's crew they were slowly stepping out of their constrictions; Net and Mage would soon follow.

Both nodded, and then Iris smiled in conspiracy at the two as well.

"You said that we needed to go to California right?" When Dick nodded feigning confusion—he obviously knew what the redhead was pointing at—she smiled more cheekily; Milagro waiting in curiosity at her left. "I know someone who can help us, but we need to get to Old-Star City for it.

* * *

><p>[1] From issue "The Flash Plus Nightwing". It's an awesome one-shot that depicts the tale of Dick and Wally's annual vacation trip going to the "worst" side when they need to stop some aliens out of the blue in the middle of Dick having to pick out a place because Wally never decides and on the last minute Dick needs to make the plans himself. It's one of my utmost favorite issues because it really describes the best-friend dynamics the two share.<p>

[2] Irey took the full force of the Speed Force connection she and Jai shared and freed Jai from the pain it encounter. She also aged two years and while they are still twins, Iris is two years older than her sibling.

[3] Spanish for "Raise your hands and throw yourselves on the floor or we will shoot!"

[4] Still Spanish: "We won't repeat it again! Raise your hands and throw yourselves on the floor or we will open fire! This is a Restricted Zone/Area and you have no permission to pass by!"

[5] "Command number 1, secure the zone, command number 2, with me!"

[6] "Command two, secure the intruders; search for weapons or hazardous objects. Be careful with the girl, she's a meta."

[7] "General, we found a pistol Colt in the girl's bag, but it's empty."

[8] "What are a couple of kids doing here at such hours in the night and carrying an empty gun?"

[9] "We come in peace."

[10] "We are not with Leviathan or Superman, but we come searching for help."

[11] "Please, we just want to stop the war."

[12] "She's the daughter of the legendary hero Flash,"

[13] "please, we need your help to find someone."

[14] "Who do you want to find?"

[15] "Sir, if they are allies of the Flash it's our duty to help them, Sir!"

[16] "We are searching for the family of Blue Beetle."

[17] "…what do you know about Blue Beetle?"

[18] "So you are searching for the family of the Blue Beetle,"

[19] It's actually a project of sorts that they are using for people with low resources and on zones where electricity isn't available. Check it out at " www. visualnews 2011 /07 /14 / bringing-light-to-the-poor-one-liter-at-a-time/" without the spaces. It even has a video on Youtube, just write 'A Liter of Light.' Will definitely try it out myself.

[20] "Yes, it's important to find them as soon as possible,"

[21] "To what purpose? Jaime Reyes is dead and his family is occupied protecting our Country. We can offer you protection; you're just kids, and one of you is descendent of Flash. You would be safe with us if you decided to stay. Our country has remained safe for years."

[22] "Thanks, but we must stay in the United States," "it's there where they have your gem Milagro."

[23] "Miss Reyes, are you sure—?" "Return to your posts. Now!"

[24] For the story purposes, in here Jaime knew Batman, and Robin and Nightwing at different times, and on one of them, knew of Matches Malone, who was, of course, Batman disguised as a Head of the Mob in one of Gotham's Sectors and told Milagro that. Also letting him know that Malone was really Batman on it.

[25] "…what?"

[26] Reference to the arc of "Lost Days" of Red Hood. Yeah, figured it came out handy.

[27] That's the name of the Border of México, and the States in Piedras Negras, Coahuila. Will later update a map of it.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Notes: <em>**_*Smirks excited* Oh yes, I also went there. And Dick knew it too, so he's not so innocent either. This was a very fulfilling chapter to write, one because it depicted heavily my obsessions with playing with numbers, adding innuendos with hidden plot twists being tampered, and an extensive play of words (like the Colt being a Roy; yeah, I'm funny like that) and my enjoyment of basically every character added to the mix that could be added without breaking the harmony. Bruce and Selina would have made it perfect, but unfortunately didn't fit in the panorama._

_Special note to Domi: It thrills me you enjoyed the past chapter and have been reading them for a while now. I'm sure you're following more closely than what you think, but it feels good to see you have the gears running in your head to keep up. And that you are glad that I updated here. Thanks, writing the characters interact with each other is something I thoroughly adore doing, and another person finding love on it and their encounters makes me grin in delight. Thank you for your words._


	14. Hazardous Contradiction vs Occupational

_**Author's Notes: **__So the Summer keeps its tradition of being all-consuming (guess it doesn't change much when you have a job), and this Chapter was specifically challenging for the profound content it portrays. There's a heavy amount of information regarding the Bat's investigations, Dick's, the New forming Generation, and Leviathan's, so I really had a hard time trying to avoid it from being all too-consuming. That said, I'll take advantage of the pause to let you guys know that I haven't kept in contact with the new issues shortly after Batman Incorporated stopped its production and then release 'Batman Incorporated: Leviathan Strikes' even if the comic is in a drawer on my bookcase, so I still don't know for sure (hate spoilers and avoid them like the Plague) who Leviathan is (but I guess I have an idea after some _hated _unintended spoilers that I closed right-away), so don't expect it to follow it. Like it's on the Summary, this is Pre-Reboot, and technically, Leviathan Rises wasn't there (I think). Onwards, you're ahead for some heavy content on this Monster that has yet, so far, been the longest chapter—and I had to cut it short too. References to other chapters will be placed, as always, on the Bottom of the Page, just like an Update to the Time Chart. Timeline in my Profile has been updated since Friday in par with the Latest Chapter, just like with a visual of Iris and Milagro, and will be updated between today and tomorrow with this chapter too. Enjoy.  
><em>_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, Violence, Guns, strong Torture-Gore subjects, and mentions of Death._

_Wednesday August 22__ndh__, 2012 Words: 22,336 (It got out of hand I really had to cut it)._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XIV.- Hazardous Contradiction vs. Occupational Complications _

_~-22:17hrs. Passing the Border, Piedras Negras, Coahuila, México._

"And who's that?" Milagro asked, undoubtedly intrigued by the redhead's cheeky attitude. She adjusted the strap of her cargo, frowning to herself at the discomfort something on her bag was giving her without really knowing what item it was and rerunning one more time a quick checklist of the things she carried in case she forgot about something.

Iris shrugged just smiling happily at the brunette, almost dancing in glee in the soles of her overused sneakers.

"You'll see~" She chanted, clearly enjoying the hold of a mystery herself before turning her greens to both figures in the dark. "By the way, why are you wearing that? Are you cold? Isn't it heavy? What's in there?" She spoke quite fast, appearing at both sides in what might as well be the same time of the olive-skin girl, who fidgeted at the rapid apparition on her sides.

Dick hid a smirk on his own scarf, unmistakably entertained at the rookie's impressions on her first (maybe?) encounter with a speedster. Those two would end-up being the best of friends, of that he was sure, he thought to himself as he stood proudly watching the awakening of a New Generation that was going to take the place of His and Tim's own.

"Um—I don't, can you speak slower?" She asked directly, furrowing more her brow and still adjusting her cargo as she kept sensing that discomfort on her back. "It's hard enough to understand you without adding super-speed to the list."

The Malone boy lifted an eyebrow, watching bemused at the straight-up latina. She was slightly different from her brother that was for sure; but ironically so, very similar at the same time.

'_Siblings.'_ Crossed over his mind, robbing a little upturn of his lips as he reminisced about his.

The ginger pouted herself, taking a deep breath and not even considering taking offense to the comment. She was a West, pure nature by heart to take on the offensive for something that she knew was truth; still, she shrugged as she kept glancing down at the short teen camping with who knew what.

"The scarf, and goggles, and helmet, and basically all your clothes." She attempted with a more subdued speech. "It is cold, but how are you planning to carry all of that for days? The trip won't be easy."

Milagro looked-up at her, then down at the boy who she assumed was also watching her closely with those hidden eyes and she stood a little taller, "The air is very toxic," she started explaining to the Meta, double-checking by reflex the cloth protecting the child's nostrils with a quick scan of her chocolate eyes, "some people on Mazatlán were informed long time ago of the air's toxicity by a protected Agent from another side. It doesn't have an exact timeframe, I guess it depends on the system or on the person's age or something, but it always ends up killing you." Then she cocked her head and crossed her arms, already giving up on finding the source of discomfort on her bag as she studied the other girl suspiciously. "I suppose since you're a Meta that doesn't apply to you,"

The lonely twin shrugged one shoulder, smiling sadly to the ground at the news. Her mother had told her and Jai something about it; basically rumors surrounding the States in regards to the high pollution all the Empire's machinery gave off. It was very heart-wrecking to find out those rumors turned out to be true.

"Accelerated healing; before any toxic can actually do any damage, my organism has already found a cure and my body cells just keep on reproducing themselves at a fast rate. Speedster." She waived, pointing at herself in what appeared to be a very 'Wally' thing to do.

Dick had to tighten his hold on his small backpack full of supplies.

"That's pretty wicked." Milagro told her grinning as she amicably took hold of the teen's shoulders with one of her arms to evoke good feelings; the freckled redhead just looked to weird without her infectious smile, and it really was _awesome_ how her system worked.

"And what _is _all that?" Robbie pointed out—literally—to the heavy pack in order to dissolve the strange ambiance surrounding them. It was rather odd to find himself a third-wheel for a moment, given he was usually pretty good interacting with people. He squinted his eyes, recognizing why the sudden feeling of inadequacy, and then just grinning it off, pushing it to his subconscious not about to delve into something like that anytime soon.

'_Avoidance',_ Harper would say. _'Deflection', _West would say.

He shook his head.

He _really _didn't want to go there now.

Milagro grinned, still not releasing the brightening redhead who seemed pretty content with her hold, taking her forearm merrily, "Oh, just the necessary stuff; water, cans, a blanket, some gas, knives, guns and ammo. Plus other needed accessories that include a map and a compass."

'_Crap.' _Was all the disguised carnie could think presently when a sudden gasp filled the air; abruptly Iris was out of the brunette's hold and at his side instead, looking at her with dread.

"You have guns—and ammo for the guns? Why? We're not going to kill anyone. Why would you have that with you?" The West girl spoke fast, but Milagro got the gig even if she understood only a partial amount of the words garbled.

"Because we might need it." She spoke with conviction without slacking off her foot on her strong position at all. "Look, I understand how you superheroes roll okay? And I respect it—_Jaime was the Blue Beetle_—but times have changed and if we are in a situation where we are forced to defend another's life to the extent of taking one, I'm not above doing it." Then she placed her hand on the weapon she had strapped to her waist earlier, reminding Iris in that gesture that she never indicated otherwise about her bearings. "You haven't been outside like we have," then she aimed a glance at the boy, "and I'm sure he knows it too."

"But—have you ever really,… _killed _anyone yet?" Iris asked hesitantly; she was hoping the girl answered negatively, because maybe then she might actually have a chance to change her mind about it. Her father (and basically everyone on her family) taught her the value of Human Life. It was clear Milagro was a military young girl, so it was understandable to a degree why her Point of View was like that, and while she was certain it wasn't really fair to try to change people, maybe if she was reasoned with, making her realize why her brother lived through their same credo she would change her mind.

The speedster still believed in the good of people, even with all the bad around them. They could be salvaged and everyone deserved a chance to do so and change.

Perhaps there hadn't been a reason for Milagro to propose that change, thus making this one her chance.

"No." The Reyes' only remaining offspring answered with no vacillation, watching how Iris' whole frame relaxed and she glared at the meaning behind the corporal language. "But I'm not above it. I'm part of an army who fights to defend the helpless, and I've been taught how to do what is needed. The guns stay, or our accommodations change."

"I vouch they stay," Robbie spurted, hoisting his hand up in the air and grabbing both women's concentration, then, at the look of the twin, he shrugged, feigning detachment, "who says we're gonna use them? We can compromise for all of us, right?"

Irey puckered her lips in disagreement while Milagro frowned in discontent (her whole corporal stature reeked of it anyhow).

The Flying Grayson, current son of the Mob, just opted for rolling his eyes at the back the shades; didn't he already had this type of conversation before?

Old news.

Finding a common displacement, he was able to actually seize an opportunity to withhold for something that would help soothe the obvious wound the new addition to their group had.

"Okay."

That was until his niece unexpectedly spoke. He blinked in retaliation, seemingly like the child he was as he stared inquiringly at the smiling redhead.

What the—?

"¿Qué? (1) 'Okay'?" Milagro spoke without a gram of credibility behind her rich tones and Dick wondered silently the same. "You've just basically said not one minute ago that it wasn't okay, but now suddenly it is?"

Iris shrugged, clasping both her hands behind her.

"Robbie is on board, and I did agree to see to the end of this. We can find ourselves a middle point along the way right? Besides," the girl chirped confident on her words, "it's a long way to it, and a lot can happen."

"…claro (2); a lot _can _happen…" Milagro repeated with a different tone and saw the redhead just nodding, deciding to leave it be at the expense of the child caught in the middle. She gyrated her head towards him, inching his way as she studied his hidden features, because she had just inadvertently remembered that he could be sick already, or that his protection against the pollution wasn't enough. It occurred to her that he might even be tired from all the previous events. "You okay over there little guy? ¿No tienes frío o sueño (3)?"

The Wayne nodded serene, glad for the variation in topic and going with this window of opportunity. The girl had come along without any warning to her Superiors, which meant with the tight grip of their soldiers they had on the other North American Country, it wouldn't be long until they found out she (and **they**) had escaped their Base without consent.

"Sleepy." He murmured, letting out a gasp at the direct contact of the arms from the freckled ginger as she scooped him out of nowhere, consequently crushing him to her chest like a teddy bear.

"Why didn't you say anything? We could have stopped for a camping site to get some rest." She chided him in her fast speech and Dick tried to recompose himself on her grasp with little avail.

"Not _that _sleepy." The boy muttered in annoyed breaths at being recriminated quite unfairly.

"Lo siento (4), but no." Milagro spoke, shaking her head and looking at the direction they recently vacated. "They'll find us if we stay here."

"I could run us someplace else on the States." Irey offered; green eyes calculating how much she'd be able to go in the three trips she'd need to take.

"Won't that be too much for you to handle?" The latina asked politely preoccupied.

"If I take three trips it'll be okay, but won't be as far as if I only was doing it once." She glanced at the cargo falling on her arms; the kid was small, but he was quite heavy, and she wasn't built for a constant weight on her arms like that. Then her stomach grumbled in protest and she blushed at the curious gaze she was sure was aimed at her from her small friend. "Will need some food after it though."

"Can't run much without gas eh?" The military girl asked with a good spark of humor following it up with a charismatic grin that was visible just through her voice. "Bueno (5)," the brunette kept saying as she let out a grunt the moment she took off her heavy cargo, followed by her stretching her lithe back, helping on loosening her muscles after it, "better get going then. We can go all the way to New Mexico if it's not much for ya; we'll camp there and keep on moving tomorrow."

The West girl nodded, having already released the boy with them and extending herself as well.

"Sounds like a plan to me," after finishing with her warm-ups the girl returned her emeralds to the youth, "hop on Robbie, we've got a long way to run now, and then I'll take Milagro with you."

Dick was about to protest, however the other female beat him to it.

"No. I'll need to go first," she said pointing at herself with her thumb towards her chest, then moving finger to him, "he will come second, and then this," finally pointing at her cargo, "will come last."

'_Well, what do you know,' _Thought the Boy Wonder as he secretly beamed. _'She's very sharp. She'll make a fine Leader when their turn comes.'_

While he was in synch with the aforementioned teenager, the other one left was not, thus, it was not strange to see Iris turning a glare at the other girl as she tried to emphasize her point by crossing her arms over her chest.

"Robbie is our priority—you have training—you've just said so—and he doesn't. We can't leave him alone."

Milagro raised her full eyebrow underneath her goggles, copying the other teen's position and cocking up her developed hips on one side.

"And your plan is to leave him alone in a War Zone instead of a _Secure Known Location?" _Then she snorted without malice, as if they'd both been friends forever enough to ridicule each other. "Claro (6), that's better."

"I'd feel a lot better here too," He added his two cents and nodded at the brunette in approval.

"Oh," The speedster spoke, feeling somewhat embarrassed for not thinking like both of them obviously, only misinterpreting the situation, "guess you're right. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Milagro spoke amicably , not feeling in the slight offended, "it's been a long day, no?" She added for the speedster's sake and was rewarded with a pretty small smile from her.

"So then, let's hurry so we can go to sleep." The carnie fell into his act of a small grumpy nine year-old; he needed the time alone right about now.

"Wow, someone's cranky," Milagro taunted and Iris chuckled, bending to pet him on his head, something that Dick found too strange to comment on.

She was his niece. It was too strange a situation to remark for that.

"Don't worry Robbie," Irey said as she squinted a little so Milagro could hop on her back; the other girl, while probably older (she had an air of the oldest from their little rag-tag group anyways), was smaller in stature, and helpful like always, the freckled teen made it easier. Once the other girl was locked on her hold, she felt the brunette's arms leaving her collarbone for a moment and not long after it, she was being accommodated with the foresail's goggles, at what she smiled in appreciation while the other gave her a thumbs up from her position on her back, _"I'll be back in a Flash!"_ the ginger finished with a bright countenance; both girls nodded and off they went; Iris feet dashing them towards his left in the direction of New Mexico.

He let out a small snort at the phrase.

A true Flash girl.

* * *

><p><em>~-23:53hrs. Passing the Border, Piedras Negras, Coahuila, México.<em>

"_You're not tired yet?!"_ Milagro asked avoiding yelling too much to the fast speedster as she clung with her for her life, both eyes shut due to the wind hitting half her face-off. It was a really strange experience. Wicked, but weird.

She would definitely give it a try later if the other girl offered it herself.

"_No! It's okay—but I do need to know how much until we're there—have any idea?!"_ Iris answered as she took in a deep breath; normally a quick run like this would have been made without a sweat if not for the extra weight of her companion. One thing was for sure, they would need to find a better solution than her running around with them on her back for the whole duration of their trip. Even with food on her stomach the West twin found that pretty implausible for her to keep up, as it was, she would fall in surrender once done, and leave the watch to her new acquired friends by the amount of energy spent.

A small part of her—the part that held the feelings of shame at her behaviour—stung in reverberation.

Her dad would have been able to do it perfectly well and without breaking a sweat as he did!

He and his best friends used to tell her, Jai and Lian all about their adventures: her dad had always been the easy Travel for most of them and never complained—'_much',_ she remembered with an affectionate melancholy at the teasing of her Aunt Donna. He had always been able as Kid Flash, and furthermore along the years as Flash himself, to never fail on the labors and duties that had him planted as the Fastest Man Alive.

That duty had fell on her shoulders after his death, and she'd been doing a poor job at it. Already she was tired while her stomach demanded fuel.

'_I'll have to get back to training. No more slacking off.' _She thought to herself, pushing her legs with a boost of power to arrive and prove herself to the Memory of her Father.

Now she was the Fastest Woman Alive on Earth.

She glared behind the glasses her new friend provided; reminded of the Amazon currently holding the title.

'_Not for long.'_

"_Yeah! Go twenty degrees to your left and keep going the way you are! The city limits must be there somewhere!" _Her friend answered her prior query, and she nodded; both twin pig-tails in sync with the extra push she gave.

'_Not for long.' _Irey repeated to herself, fixated on new Objective at the long run.

* * *

><p><em>~- 23:53hrs. Damian's Quarters, Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"Todd," The demon adolescent spoke to him while the two were on said bird's designated room. It had been a couple of hours since the latter had deigned to speak right after Jason took it in himself to remove both of them from the Main Console, where a fight was sure to erupt if not by the sudden apparition of Cain just in the nick of time; in reality, it was all the Replacement's fault, _'Go figure,'_ so he'd scoffed, sending a warning glance at his 'spare' that kept unmoving, obviously standing by his allegations of the bitch and whatnot, and with that, had turned around, taking care to clash his blue-green eyes at the only ones that were brown on the space, sure the message was loud and clear to the woman who kept his gaze; finally smashing, thus consequently pushing his arm with the Prince's to signal their retreat.

Fortunately (if not Jason would have been at a loss of what to do), Dick's precious child understood the simple corporal action, and went right next him a minute or so afterwards; the brat had probably said something to make his retreat dramatic, have the last word on the ordeal (the kid sure did that a lot) or some shit like that. It was on his blood after all, the older contemplated with an amused uprising of one corner of his lips. Damian had taken the lead right then, clearly wanting to make a statement of how he was the one choosing to exit from a possible warzone to keep his childish pride. The Red vigilante couldn't really care less about it, ending up on the demon's personal quarters and just standing near a wall, staring at the rocky surface with little interest whilst the other bird sat on a chair by his bed, a book in hand—that is, until the brat had decided the silence period was over. It unnerved him; it was an understatement that Jason wasn't one for touchy-feely subjects, pep-talks or anything really that didn't involve sarcasm and sharp smartass retorts. Hopefully the kid wasn't up to that either; he'd be sorely disappointed if that was the case then.

"Hn," He grunted for lack of a better response; a futile attempt to avoid any emotional chit-chat, however unlikely coming from the teen.

"Who are our Allies?" Came instead, and Jason had to oblige a smidge of attention towards the teenager at the different subject.

It certainly beat what he was dreading.

"… knowing won't make a difference." Jason opted for the evasive answer, hoping the other would catch the drift.

"-Tt- unacceptable." The Wayne heir ground-out instead.

Then again, when were things capable of drifting to his expectations anyway?

"Deal with it kid. Doesn't change anything." He tried again resuming his glare at the wall. He had been trying hard day and night to avoid the subject altogether, because, (in reality) it kept reminding him of Dick's unknown status.

"If it doesn't make a difference then why don't you tell me?" Damian continued perceptibly upset with a 'so obvious' logical tone to it that—he was sure—was deeming him as stupid; he—on the other hand—didn't acknowledged that tangible fact in addition to the blatant insult.

If he wanted Jr. here' to understand there wasn't a big deal, he needed to act according to it. As for ignoring the palpable 'stupid-sign' aimed at him, it was better for the brunette he did; plus, it gave him some points for acting as the "mature one".

He could use those points later when the time came **(and it would) **where they would be saved by his _thoughtful _and _clever _precautions.

"Because, _Babybird,_ if it's not a necessity it's not an option. Or are you that impractical?" Jason responded without losing a beat on the first part, but couldn't stop his tongue from lashing out at the younger in retaliation at the very end.

So much for being the mature one.

He could hear the other gritting his teeth at the same time as the teen kept tensing his whole frame in contained anger, which made him scowl somewhat; the fool really needed to keep his anger in check and watch out for his Physical Responses. No wonder Replacement had it easy ruffling all the Demon's feathers if he made it so effortless (and that was without begrudgingly accepting the fact that Restaurant Boy had a good Poker Face).

At the long run, it could be dangerous, thus, it only confirmed his decision of leaving the Mini-Bat Brat out on most of their tactics, as well as future strategies; part of their Agents or not.

"What if the time comes when it's needed? What if I find them in my path and come in-between a Mission for lacking previous knowledge of it? It's **you,**the one who's being impractical." Damian kept being adamant on those high-all-mighty tones, making Jason want to punch the living daylights outta him. The adolescent was being annoying to compensate for his own (stupid) annoyance at Jason's third-hand Replacement and the bird's Predecessor.

He had agreed to watch-out for the brat, attempting to get along with him enough to avoid placing a bullet through his arrogant pie-hole, (and he'd somewhat grown used to it, in a very passive-aggressive kinda way, just to coexist with each other, and to a lesser degree, some of the other people on the Cave)—_**not**_being his venting machine or even less his punching bag; the Rogue Vigilante wasn't anybody's shrink and the sooner the kid understood it, the better his chances of keeping his promise to his brother.

"Stop tryin' to pick-up a fight with me 'cause you couldn't pick-it out there, kid," He opted from beating around the bush—it wasn't his style, and he certainly wasn't starting a new trend now; best to let the brat understand it from the beginning to avoid any non-required misunderstandings, "I'm nobody's shrink or your punching bag jus' 'cause you're too pansy to deal with your crap by your own." After saying that, he listened to the chair legs drag from their spot in a fast succession, promptly deciding to honor the youth with the turn of his head. "Our Allies have shit to do with what's got that stick up your ass." The most experienced of their current Generation met the teenager a few meters from him with a matching glare, as Damian undoubtedly clenched his fists in "suppressed rage" (not that he was actually _good _at it), then, he decided to hardened his profile; refreshing the boy fresh out of their nest, without additional comment, the meaning of the Body Language he was so keen to bypass in moments where his anger was tested.

"Talia has **always** been-up to no good, and tryin' to get into the Old-man's nerves one way or another 'cause the bitch is _obsessed _with _**Him." **_The Red Hood spoke; cold characters coaxing the meaning behind his clear statement, "These aren't news to you—or _any_ of us for that matter. We all know the al Ghul's are tough nuts to crack; that _she'll __use you_ to get to _Him. Hell _if there isn't anyone who she hasn't rolled-over to it." He spoke out of irritation at his own experience with the crazy bitch; unable to keep himself from meddling with the arrogant Little Shit. "What's the deal if you already know you aren't gonna go with it? Man-up already _brat,_ or else you're staying here with Replacement, and Malibu Barbie at the Black Pit." He signaled, levering his head to demonstrate towards the door where the other three of their Age Band were most likely to reside.

"You _need _me, Todd." The Batman's Biological Son gritted out—his pride evidently wounded by his own set of words (something Jason found quite satisfactory). "Remember? That's why you need to _reevaluate_ our position, or else I will refrain from covering the place _you_ needed _me _for, due to your erroneous assumptions of our lack of Equality." Damian finished, and the other raven had almost the need to congratulate the Demon Brat for having the balls to keep on his feet, and the Wayne glare almost perfected to a notch.

Too bad the Bat-glare stopped affecting him a lifetime ago.

For him that is.

"I need **'****someone'** inside," Jason was unambiguous to leave out, finally crossing his arms over his big chest and adjusting his whole muscled-frame so he could be face-to-face with the rebellious adolescent; he rolled his eyes in his mind, _'Teenagers; they think they know it all.'_ After the thought, he came back to place the bird back in check, "_you _were the one _I _choose out-of the **plainness **that you'd be the only one to truly move into the importance of our Secrecy. " His eyes turned darker, glinting a strange mix of green on his blues. "If I had **any** **real** **choice** in the matter, _**Cain**_would have been my pick. Not _you. _Not _Barbie. _And **definitely** _**Not Replacement. **_So, as you can see, we **all** had to adjust to our _necessities,—_be _practical, _and choose the _Less Incompetent _out of the Three Remaining Leftovers. Hence, why you still got your Job—lousy as you are at it."

At the lack of language from a very much disgruntled bird, he tensed his muscles to regain the astonished adolescent's attention.

"_Anything else_ you might want to **demand**, Precious?"

When all he got in retaliation was the candidly open turmoil from him, Jason squared his jaw once anew.

"And you better start keepin' tabs on that anger of yours Babybird," He could just see the temperature rise from the feathered crusader, _"I mean it kid; _want to make somethin' worthy out of all this shit you've got around you? Start by makin' the Replacement's _pathetic_ attempts to throw you-off less obvious by _controlling _yourself." Jason wasn't supposed to have said that, he considered; after all, if the biological Wayne needed Anger Management 101 to cover himself from the expense of the Pansy's mockery, it made no difference to him. Now, however, since clearly something had obliged him to get personal (perhaps it wasn't much, only a little advice, but personal nonetheless) with the young brunette, he might as well go for it and get those points he lost the opportunity to cash. "The Old-man may have not taught you the 'fine art' of a well-constructed Poker Face—don't see _how_ by the life of me, with his stupid sick paranoid obsessions!—but think of it as 'common sense' of _acquired knowledge_ from watching others. Like, say, every single one inside this Cave_._" He scoffed, adding insult to the injury, "Seriously, you'd think that someone of your training would take less to fall to the easy traps that asshole brings-out."

"Get out."

Jason barely understood behind his growling, and deep within his stomach, knew he had touched one-too many nerves for such a short expanse; what perturbed him more, was the awareness that depicted a _slight_ reconsideration of his harsh set of words that had just twisted the knife deeper in the last Robin's gut.

He wasn't supposed to start thinking of the Annoying bastard.

"_Was really gonna ask you to take care of Damian …"_

The muscles on his back clenched as he ignored once more the warning in front of him.

_"I trust you to do it,…"_

The freakin' Golden Boy's stupid-ass face came into view.

"…_you two have more in common that either gives credit for…."_

"_The only logic in here that you two can understand is that what brings you together is the same dark nature that eats you away."_

An image from their avoided fight with the third bird's face in there popped into his head; the bad taste he got from that good-for nothing's demeanor that painted him—**them, **like **garbage.**

"_It'd be good for you to spend some time with each other…."_

"I said _GET. OUT!" _Apparently Damian growled out in a prominent yell that got him out of his reverie.

That expression of unaltered wrath at finding himself **useless **to do more on his actual situation, brought back Goden Boy's words booming on his head like a chorus.

"…_you two have more in common that either gives credit for…."_

"_It'd be good for you to spend some time with each other…."_

…

"Hn." The older man grunted, dismissing the younger altogether after reaching a middle-ground on his decision that would be both satisfactory for him, as Dick's. He crossed the dark floors with his heavy old-boots; not one faltering step, and completely devoid of changing his rhythm, Jason threw himself on the youngest of their threshold's bed, lounging luxuriously without a care in the world with both his arms resting at the back of his head and legs apart: one down, another one up. Then, he met the azure blues with his own different orbs; defying him to stand against him.

"No."

Damian stood there, just a meter or so away from him, his hand already on his sword that remained on the edge of his bed, pointing it at him; a snarl on his darker features.

"_I ought to skin you alive—!"_

"But you're not gonna, so quit the barking and get it straight into your thick-skull that whether you want to, or not, I'm in charge, Precious; so get on board or get the fuck off. Sick of playing babysitter, and sick of your incompetence. Be man enough to admit error, and room for improvement; if not **get out** of my **sight."**

That halted the Wayne on his steps, a minute or so where both stood unmovable on their places.

"-Tt-." The young man in civvies admitted defeat as he turned yet again to return to his place sitting down. "One day Todd, mark my words, I'll make you regret taking advantage of your position, and then, I'll show Grayson what kind of _coward_ you really are." He heard the boy speak with as much certainty as the word itself.

Jason couldn't help but think the same.

* * *

><p><em>~-23:59hrs. Passing the Border, Piedras Negras, Coahuila, México.<em>

"_-mmrgh—arg—ackk—arghh—" _Dick gritted out through his teeth biting the odorous material as he writhed out in pain at the vindictive stabs on his chest going two different directions: one all the way up his sternum and the other slaughtering his cranium in pieces. He'd been alone for a considerably small amount of minutes, and the strenuous throbbing that promised to attempt cutting him in parts (never actually finishing the process) came full force on him. He'd barely had time to register his previous actions before he succumbed to his seizures and rolled on the soil like a pathetic animal.

He was glad the girls were out of sight; he was also thankful for his task half the way done as it was ought to, before the distortion was all he recognized whilst his body had a mind of its own that refused to listen to his owner.

'_Get up!' _He kept demanding his limbs with no avail. _'Get up now!' _

He wheezed out, clutching his cracking small fingers to his locks to the point where if he had ripped them off he wouldn't be able to tell it right away for the all consuming ache. The drench of his saliva was sticking dirt which turned mud to his face, given he kept twisting back and forth with no real compass behind his actions. His lungs started having trouble breathing, and he couldn't remember exactly the last time his attacks had come by so ferociously that left him choking and wheezing pathetically with no way to help himself.

The acrobat had always considered himself pretty independent until this came back with him. Jason had once considered out-loud how it could be a direct consequence of bringing up a body that was of no use back to life; it was logical to a degree. If the body was decomposed, and had been restored with—whatever it was restored with—secondary effects would obviously want to make themselves present; it was like the Mother Nature's way of telling him this was _not _alright—that _he_ didn't belonged here with the living anymore with a body that was clearly past his expiration date and that day by day continued falling into an unheard process of decay.

Of course Jason denied ever uttering such a thing; but Dick while being many things, was not a fool.

Unfortunately, during their brief time together, he spent most of his stay on the other Bird's Safe House unconscious or heavily medicated—and Bruce had made him pretty drug-proof to ensure he never caught himself on the dangerous side of forced medications—never actually experiencing that much the pains that came with his episodes because Jason ended up his suffering by basically knocking him out cold.

He had not told him how much he appreciated that gesture; hadn't actually had a chance to let him on with his thanks since out of the blue they were both out to the rescue for Timbo bird and things had just gone progressively uncontrollable from there on.

Right about now he really wished he could hit his own head with the soil, a rock—anything to have him black out from enduring much more of this. But he was so enraptured on every sensation it just wasn't an option.

He really hoped Irey arrived much later after taking a quick break to avoid providing such a pitiful sight. In the meantime he would be forced to endure, glaring through a blurry gaze at nothing and everything at once and continuing his commands at his treacherous body to get on with it.

Thank his quick training that ordered him to immediately send the message to Selina once the Speedster was out of sight.

Another time his Bat training saved the day he thought with dire humor, continuing to grasp himself and trying to see if there was much more to it.

* * *

><p><em>~- 00:21hrs. Damian's Quarters, Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

There was a knock on the door.

It still remained unsure if it was a welcome distraction or not from the overwrought ambiance the two of them had, but nonetheless, it gave Damian the time to focus his thoughts on something else.

While Todd had absolutely no right to chastise him on behalf of _anything, _he knew his anger was one of his primordial faults that often kept him from being assigned any of the hazardous Operations by his Father. The traitor was still without any right to patronize him. And he was too prideful to even consider abiding thought on the disgraceful "truth" out of Todd's way to get to him, about Cain as their first option, _'Why must it _always _be Cain?' _His treacherous mind yelled at him before the thought was subdued. Most importantly, that street-rat would never know what kept him from attacking his Sire's first mistake of many:

Dick.

The Heir of the Wayne Family and Batman Mantle had meant what he said, even so, his big brother's chat kept him at bay as he had been for the past month and a half (it might as well been two or three months for all he cared) since Todd remained there after suffering the abandonment at his brother's hands.

Such as every single one of them.

His brow twitched.

'_Lies.' _The brilliant mind he cultivated whispered in harsh scorns—the entirety the man spurted were lies, but he had let them pass; the truth would come with patience and time, just like his brother did, and then, after taking care of the pests (_Drake)_, he would deal with the Rat stinking their hole.

Deep down, the teen reconciled with the fact that at least the oldest of their bunch had not granted him with the impossible task of taking his status with the one prior to him to an amicable state instead.

The knock against the wood material came again, and he was greeted by movement from his right, stirring his head an inch to watch Todd direct his odd-blue colored gaze at the door in annoyance, so he opted to raise an eyebrow with arrogant disposition.

The older of the two selected for rolling his eyes in comeback; _'Such an infantile demonstration.' _crossed his aristocratic mind at the behavior displayed by a man of nearly thirty years of age.

"It's open for Christ's sake!" He heard the other one yell in aggravation, knowing full well Pennyworth was not at the end of the door.

"Batman wants to see you."

But Cain.

She stood in the frame of his quarters, not actually stepping inside; face deterrent of any indication of her judgments.

"_[…] but think of it as common sense of _acquired knowledge_ from watching others.[…]"_ Todd's foul shortcomings immediately came into mind, and Damian hated himself for actually having his brain _listening _to the oldest in the space.

"_[…] you should show more respect to someone who's been taking care of you with so little in return and use her as an example of living, Damian. […]"_. It was on a greater measure that the gypsy's voice resonated on the walls of his cranium, Cain was certainly a good Templar on their midst, thus, making Grayson correct on his statements in the same manner. Perhaps he would start paying more attention to the woman; though no amount of respect would be granted.

Her fault was on a main scale of the entirety going to a worse turn.

"Was startin' to wonder when the Old-man would finally decide on another 'Bad Cop' routine." Damian continued hearing the eldest mock the only female on their sibling bunch. He casted his navy eyes to the façade of said person to find her immutable.

Hm.

It was then that Todd stretched and rose from his resting position, sitting up on the edge of the bed close to him, and Damian instinctively tensed for a nanosecond—enough for the observant eyes of both vigilantes, and he glared in retaliation; daring them to comment on his mistake.

"By the way," the Red Hood started again, signaling with his head at him, "he's coming too."

He was barely able to hide the surprise from his features, and chose instead to watch their sister to see what she had to say about it. The last time his Father and Jason had spoken both had resorted to violence until Pennyworth came to stop them, with (Damian now recalled with probing acknowledgement) Cain. All three remaining occupants of their Base were left elsewhere while the confrontation occurred, and when he himself had attempted to form part of the quarrel and interrogation, his Father had been unyielding on his dismissal.

"Come." A mask less Black Bat replied on her spot, to which Damian offered nothing in return but the further observation of the soundless girl's demeanor; he had not lost the sight that said former assassin had arrived shortly with Fat Girl in tow from an assignment, allegedly going to change herself to her nightwear for some rest when their 'impromptu (though, considering the rate of repetition, he was starting to wonder about it) clash' came; and now here she was, not three hours later, suited up with everything except her head-gear.

The jealousy in his core roared for a discharge, but he controlled it perfectly as he often tried to do when affronted with the object of his contemptuous thinking.

Todd jumped off the bed with a smirk covering his structures and shoved him slightly without a care, but he kept a stagnant frown on his surface in retaliation.

"Lead the way 'Bat'," The teen heard the raven with the white streak add, watching as Cain waited for him to what he assumed was getting up, thus, as the Heir of their trail, Damian got up, and started following a noiseless Cain with Todd behind them, walking all the way to the division of the Cave that held their weaponry storage—a part Hood was supposed to remain unaware of.

'_What is Father planning?'_

"Good, you're all here." Batman's voice greeted them while he was immersed in taking apart the components of a newly-polished shotgun, not deigning them with more than a spare glance.

He remained patient; aware of the observations he was so kindly reminded of moments before, to show everyone on this room he was capable of his place as Successor of their Group now that Dick was back.

A whistle at his right made him move his cobalt eyes at the mock expression of Todd to their hidden arsenal.

"Wow Old-man, gotta say I'm impressed. Had I known this shit was here before, we wouldn't had that much problems lately,"

"I didn't bring you here to indulge you in your games Jason." His Father's cold tone cut the ambiance in half.

"Yeah, you're right, you didn't—'One Who Is All' here, did," the other man signaled to their sister who stood with them instead of their Sire.

"_Regardless," _Batman cut him out once anew, "there is no more room for games Jason. Deal with it." He was sure his surrogate sibling was going to protest, but his Father didn't provide the opportunity. "Damian, I'm sure you remember the papers you handed me back on February (7) courtesy of Jason." The grown man stated, and he nodded in confirmation; just like that, the atmosphere changed. Todd's behavior went into business mode, and he was bitter to fall into the realization that his so-called "sister" was also involved with the Project that was only for the males present.

'_Of course he'd involve Cain,' _was the thought eliciting bitter disappointment hidden underneath his hereditary frown.

"Little hard not to remember considering the butchered remains." His brother so eloquently supplemented, earning a glare from their General that rose from his seat where he stopped working on the segmented fire weapon.

"Yes. And bearing in mind all those 'butchered remains' are _children_, I would appreciate it if you talked more respectfully Jason." His father continued, full Batman as he'd been since the gypsy's abandon, and the scolded bird was wise to look somewhat regretful of his choice of words. Damian could barely make out a muttered word from the raven that lacked his usual conviction. "We had been investigating with one of our sources after those notes were merged into a single report, about the disappearances and locations, plus uses of the Subjects to rescue any other infants that may have still been alive."

"Why are you saying 'had been investigating'?" Damian interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because our source was assassinated seven or eight weeks later." Batman told him patiently.

"So, what? You just stopped there? Sure doesn't sound like you, pain in the ass or not." His brother continued, and their father didn't disappoint either of them nor spared comment to Todd's provocations.

"Before he was sent to control an outbreak of a Rebellion Group, we were told about receiving some important information. However, since his unexpected demise on the Battle Lines, we had to resort to other tactics to acquire the data lost from him. Black Bat and Batgirl found it (8), but was encrypted; it's been just recently that we have completely decoded it to see the latest advances he had made."

"And how the hell did you get the data if he was already dead? Oh, and I'm assuming Barbie didn't know what Bat here was doing." Todd kept speaking, while he and the Cain woman just stood there listening.

"We have ways (9). And yes, for the moment, Stephanie has remained unaware of the circumstances." The slits of the Batman's cowl went thinner, just daring to keep questioning his methods. Whilst he understood the secrecy his Sire was having around them (even when he didn't abundantly consent it), he knew someone of the Street-rat's standards wouldn't, so he made a point to silence the later by aiming a well found glare on him.

"You have yet to gain our trust Todd, so just let us listen what Father needs to inform us and cease with your constantly asinine interruptions." He bit out in what he considered was a very dry tone.

"Whatever," Todd chose to answer with a glare of his own, _"please, _continue."

Not one of them paid heed to the obvious derision.

-Tt-. It was on this type of instances that Damian dared to compare him with a child that knew no better, even when it was apparent the adult was doing it just to spite at the Batman. He had—unfortunately—proven to be resourceful on their circumstances.

The adolescent saw with inquisitiveness how the Patriarch of their Cave had some type of silent communication with the female version of him, and not a minute later, the woman was punching some codes into the computer attached to one ancient watch hidden beneath the folds of the wraps on her tiny left wrist. A holographic representation of the artifact popped open in shades of gray and a faint yellow, and Damian watched as she moved with ease around the numerous files with intrinsic terms (no doubt due to her simplicity instead of a well formed code like he had on his own equipment, he considered haughtily) until she found one that she seemed at concord with and open it.

A chuckle came from his right, signaling the Red Hood's further hilarity; however, unlike his dirty-blooded sibling, Damian found no such thing as diverting, rather aggravating.

"I like your simplicity sis'," Todd told the female, aiming her a smirk that she just bypassed perhaps out of not knowing what to do in response.

"Really, Cain? _'Homework'?" _ He criticized, stepping forward to see better while the security was being handled by the other Wayne assassin. _'This is what Father considers his best Soldier? Ridiculous. She is _far_ from Grayson's Golden Position.' _"Might as well add some drawings and wait for the Enemy to collapse from laughter while deciphering the cryptograms."

"Night-Robin." The grave voice of his Father on the Cowl reprimanded him, and he recomposed his customary profile.

"Don't listen to him Bat," The infuriating second Robin kept in his sardonic manner, "you name it as you see it. Simple as that."

There was a perchance the Demon Heir might have looked too much unto their interactions for a fraction of a second, since it was impossible the corner of Cain's mouth lifted the most minimal from its usual flat line. Nevertheless, if it was there, he was no longer sure, _'And it makes no difference whatsoever,' _he mentally reminded himself, overlooking the peculiar event, all the while unaware of the other set of eyes in the exchange lighting for a spec at the concise chat before going back to dealing.

"Ready." The silent warrior procured the instant a series of reports came in the gray screen with yellow words; one would think the combination was impractical at best, but strangely, it didn't oppose a challenge in reading the transcriptions. "The file that resumed some specific whereabouts is here." She continued, placing her slender index and dragging a small notation to the front, making it bigger so it took half the screen. Damian could see some small squares that most definitely were pictures of their findings and said Agent's state when recovered, but he made no mention to convey it into their Meeting.

They've all seen it more than enough.

"The investigations you provided informed us of the children's parts being used as crops, and different parts of their Anatomy's severed to unknown purposes (10), all freshly cut if the pictures you gathered and your suspicions are correct." Before Hood deemed any retort his Father continued. "We have reasons to think they are." The Dark Knight took a moment as he let the newly assembled to read through Black Bat's notes. "Our source was ordered to use his commended status on the Enemy's line, and infiltrate on their Underground Facilities until he found something akin to your Intelligence. It took him three weeks, but he was finally able to get into this Locality," a nod to Black Bat as she used the other half to pop-open a bad quality photo of an average deserted Newspaper or Magazine Photography Building falling to pieces, "while ordinary on the outside, and without any seen armed forces guarding the terrain, it had remained inconspicuous of any activity until he brought it to our attention." Then his sister provided an even inferior picture in quality of what appeared to be a subway underneath; the records were still on part of the screen, but he had to swallow some revulsion to keep on reading, and was welcoming the distraction that was his Father's unfaltering baritone relay the conclusions.

"So far we've come to encounter only one way in and out; inside, the majority of the workers are Private Army that takes care of keeping a strict check-in of every square of the room." Another image appeared in the same black and whites, this time depicting something similar to the tables the red rogue Vigilante had shown with limbs on it with some heavy-loaded Guards nearby. "They use the same parts mostly; not much has been gathered to what the Empire is doing with the children's Heads nor Craniums, while we have reason to suspect the Torsos," another image showing a torso without any skin; the muscles bleeding profusely, and he was thankful of the awful feature they were able to recuperate from their spy, "are primly sought to provide skin transplants, since infant's skin is healthier and with more Elastin and Collagen than adults present. It's only a Hypothesis so far; while the flesh and organs appear to be drenched," another acutely poor photo, "and added in the same orange mixture you found before. The readings on our Double Agent's semi-carbonized bones read a high amount of Formaldehyde, which makes us think the place must have been drowning on it if it remained deep on his bones after one week missing before declaring him dead and pinpointing his body. That, or they keep their staff drugged shortly before disposing of it."

"Either that or they doped him with it when they found the Rat in the Hole." Todd procured serious and tightening the grip on his holster.

"Negative. He informed us that every indeterminate time, they sent some of their Scientists and Guards to other unknown locations." Cain added, typing something on the hologram.

"While he couldn't make out a pattern, we did, but it was his decision to stay, even if he was aware of the final result." Batman relayed with great amount of respect, and Damian nodded in full agreement.

"What was the name of our Loyal Ally, Father?" He asked to merit the warrior in his Head and provide him with respect; such were the last remaining people of the Human Race that were worthy of praise and honor shed.

"Eli Strange (11)." Batman provided with a grim savor while a picture of a young happy sixteen-year old Eli was on the transparent grays, long before the War erupted.

"So what is our next move?" He asked after a minute of silence; the Dark Knight resurfaced with a vengeance, the slits glowing whites at all three of them in barely contained anger turned conviction.

"We make good on his efforts, and **a****ct**."

* * *

><p><em>~-01:47hrs. Passing the Border, Piedras Negras, Coahuila, México.<em>

"Okay I'm here! I'm so sorry I took so long—Robbie…?" Iris dashed into the clearing she and her friend had left before parting ways. She placed the goggles on the top of her disheveled red hair, to have green sparks searching for the little guy; it was odd, but she felt an inappropriate sense wash her for interrupting the tranquility of the deserted land with her speech matching her fast steps, so cautious of her footing, the speedster walked a little crouched.

She felt stealth was needed for some reason.

"_Robbie?"_ She whispered at the cold wind and shivered once the air hit the exposed parts of her skin. In retaliation, she vibrated slightly to provide herself some needed heat after her strenuous run back and forth with the added weight on her back. Exhaustion was starting to cover her limbs, and she wanted nothing more than to rest languidly on some blanket until the sun came up. So, compromised on finding the small fella and leaving on a fast notice, she went behind a rather large rock some meters away from her, thinking maybe the kid had nuzzled some while he waited for her.

A small frown adorned her face.

'_He sure looked tired.' _Was her reasoning as she kept walking with silent steps from the obscure place. That was an additional handicap for her, she admitted, since she couldn't see squat unless she was directly in front of it; the outlining of the rock in contrast with the sky night was the only thing that had her actually visualizing the earthly material.

"Robbie?" The West twin attempted yet again, this time squishing her eyeballs at something she thought she was _seeing _on the rock's lines. The teen crept closer, and closer, _and closer,_ and suddenly, she smiled in relief at the figure of the boy resting comfortably with his small hands on his belly (she thought—_it was too dark!)_ snoring lightly. She let out a small chuckle with warmth layers filtering on her mouth as she bended and cautiously, with some regret at waking the child, nudged at his shoulders lightly. "Robbie, you need to wake-up. Milagro is waiting for us." She added for the child's sake as she heard him woke slowly.

A thought entered her mind right then.

"How come nobody has found you here if they were looking for us?"

And she made the mistake of thinking out loud, slapping a hand to her mouth immediately at interrupting the quiet night.

She heard the boy let out a groan at being robbed of his sleep, _'Huh, so not a morning person.' _she thought merrily, the male in question interrupting her thoughts shortly.

"They just left a while ago," she heard him say in sleepy tones, "but you guys had hid the stuff, and I stayed here, so they didn't stay."

The girl nodded at him.

"Good job. Let's get you out of here before they come back though, okay?"

"Okay."

No more time was spent as she crouched and felt him against her back, standing up right away and not wasting a breath to find her way to their teammate.

"Hang in there Robbie! We'll be there in no time!" Iris added to console her poor friend that was clearly exhausted, knowing he would find no sleep on her trajectory to their designated spot.

At least she was able to get there faster with considerably less weight, so she would keep the promise she'd just made to the child.

* * *

><p><em>~-07:58hrs. Caballo Reservoir, New Mexico, United States.<em>

After what felt like one of the most tiring nights he'd had of restless sleep, and considering the hour was a decent one to pretend awakening from a deep slumber, Dick moved from his spot on a big tree where he had been reclining once Iris had delivered him to Milagro's company. The girl had been awake for about an hour or so, and he had risen from a small nap at the same time due to the light sleeping patterns he suffered; it had been only to keep himself in character with a boy his age, that he remained unmovable from his spot while the oldest of their bunch (chronologically at least) moved very stealthy around their small camping site with a nearby dried-out river.

The girl was substantially well-trained; he had indulged himself in observing to pass the time, indebted for the glasses that kept his watchful eyeball hidden from inspection. She moved without actually waking any of their crew—he was really not going to count himself on the equation, having years of training over her, the constant paranoia that kept his senses high all the time, even in light sleep, and just to make things funnier (really, what other explanation was there?) insomnia to warp it all with a nice bow—the girl was simply good at avoiding waking someone—name the slumbering speedster nearby his left—with her careful steps.

He'd also took care to notice how much effort she seemed to put on remaining with an open ear while she slept, watching how at some different intervals, she woke with a start to give a look-over and guard their perimeter, before returning to sleep and accommodate the blanket Iris had falling on her spot.

In all fairness he would have been elated to relieve the teen from her unnecessary measurements, but his character kept him from jumping out to the rescue, and had entertained himself with contemplating over the latest events instead; mindful of keeping watch while he adjusted to another night of insomnia.

Sometimes he thought the same Continuum Space that often mocked them decided to catch him a break from time to time. It was his only explanation (so far), for his unusual change in status about four minutes or so before the redhead made her arrival at the early hours of the night, when suddenly the all-consuming stabs stopped and he was granted a greedy inhale of air.

The carnie had not left anything to chance, regaining his composure that miraculously came back full-mode at him, and barely avoided recognition from the steps he heard along the way. He had moved covertly after activating one small alarm on a Sonic Batarang (12) he took from his hidden utility belt before he left the New Cave, sending the troops towards the noise, meters from him, back when they had just been escaping at an opportunity when both girls were chatting ahead of him. That had rerouted the scouts who were searching for his party, and shortly, Iris had arrived, resulting in him searching a far-away stop the teen could locate without much trouble, to simulate sleep. The redhead made it easy at one point; the lack of her vision to his favor when he thought he was going to be caught in the act of sneaking away, just a meter or so behind her, when her head swiveled on his direction at one hunch before she called him again, and he moved away to reestablish his position.

He thanked his lucky stars for it, but wasn't that keen on depending that much on the Universe giving him a hand from time to time, preferably wanting to avoid calling it so close to home if there—_when _the next time came.

Because really, it was only a matter of time before something like that happened again, he rolled his eyes having already accepting the fact a decade ago.

It had been something that happened during his attack, however, that kept him thoughtful—and occupied—all night long.

"_They're alright?!" _Wally's relieved tone came back full-force yet again from his latest Subconscious Meeting while pain faded everything for an undetermined time, and he wasn't able to keep consciousness back then. He had found his friends for a second time on a similar template on his mind's eye, and this occasion, he'd relayed everything going so far with the Titans to avoid an impromptu dissolve of their subsequent encounter. In that resume, he had quelled happily the speedster's worry over his family, adding his heart-warming feelings at his helpful and good-natured children who worked to keep their small area safe, and how his daughter was now helping him with the Mission he explained to them as well.

The carnie had welcomed the hug with enthusiasm; happy the speedster sporting his Kid Flash's garbs was so cheerful on his Daughter's assistance instead of the opposite, and promising to keep him updated on news of his family if he were to come back. He'd also told Roy how it was Iris' idea to go look-out for Lian, and while the archer glared for half a second at the taunting-bouncing speedster, Donna laughed and said how the girl was probably out on her own if her father was any indication, so it wouldn't be bad to actually have her with Dick's supervision, _and_a Team to back her-up if it was needed. It resulted in the older redhead smiling with swelling pride at Wonder Girl's thoughts. Garth had seemed particularly curious about Milagro getting along with Lian, which prompted a debate between him and the father of the aforementioned on how Roy's 'Princess' was perfectly capable of thrusting judgment—firearms use included.

Their reunion didn't last long, but it was enough for him to lay out the important aspects of his plan, and even if they were only representations of his subconscious, Dick was more than happy of being able to share his thoughts only kept to himself to his Friends. They gave him some pointers his mind was very insightful to provide in what only they would be able to, if the four were alive; a true testament of his deep bonding with them, and left him at peace with his New Founded Strategies, and modifications made to them.

It did left him wondering if he used to have those chats with them before, back when he was with Jason, but had been too drugged on the Red Hood's crazy medication cocktails to recalled them; or—his personal favorite—if it was a Defense Mechanism by his body during his blackouts, when he needed something to cling to, and his mind provided him the rope in the form of his Friends. By now, he would not heed his conclusions so hastily, and would be pending of a Pattern he was now bringing-out from thin air; only then, if he confirmed or adjusted his Hypothesis, would he be brave enough to seek them out voluntarily.

That would _really _keep his sanity in check.

"Buenos días (13)," the Military girl in-training waved at him cheerfully once he decided to get-up from his spot to help her dig a hole on the middle part of the River Canal.

"Buenos días," The spot in which she was trying to make a hole (no doubt to see if any water was below) was fine—so far, but the adolescent lacked further education on **where** to do it to have better results. He would be risking it, but the acrobat had an idea to teach her inadvertently what she needed to know.

Noticeably or not wasn't relevant—he was in charge of their group, and he'd be damned if he was letting them without knowing something that might save their lives later on the line.

'_Shoulda went to that Boy-scout's Meeting to teach those kids a lesson or two.' _He thought amused at the memory back when he was almost ten and his teachers—plus Clark—kept insisting Bruce to let him join the Group. At the memory of the Kryptonian he squared his jaw.

There was still much to think about that too.

"What're you doing?" He feigned in a slur, projecting a boy who didn't appreciated the waking up at all. To be honest, he had so much practice by actually having a horrible mood whenever he did woke-up after resting, that it was a piece of cake.

'_About time bad habits come-in handy,'_ Malone thought entertained at recalling how many times he begged Alfred another 'five more minutes.'

"Getting-us some extra water." She told him, happy to be teaching him something. Her mask effectively hid any expressions expect for her chocolate eyes since he saw Irey wearing her protection glasses on the top of her head, but it was clear she was smiling at him by the sparks of her infectious sight. "Even if the river is dry, there might be water underneath, so I'm digging to see if there's any."

He nodded, peeking from his glasses and his own get-up that covered him from the polluted air, knowing she still had some issues with them, but refrained to saying so. All the better for him in any case.

"So how much do you need to dig?" Dick was careful to add with a noticeable interest, leaning behind her crouched position to investigate.

"Normally not so much, but I'm guessing it's because the River has been dried-out for a long while." As she said it, she kept excavating with a knife she now had deteriorated from using it so roughly without tact.

"Oh—hey! Can I help?" This was his shot, he thought as he went to another point in an eager matter—the one he knew would hold the vital liquid, nearby the small shade of the tree that fell into the canal in which they had been resting for the night (14).

"Sure, just don't go far and don't worry if nothing comes out right away. Remember this area is pretty dry." She searched for something on one of her multitude of pockets on her Kevlar-vest and then handed him another smaller knife as she approached his location. "Here you go, try it with that, but be careful."

"Like this?" Dick nodded, putting himself to work while she was there to supervise him. He paid special care to the knife, showing her observant browns the appropriate way to dig with a white-weapon in order to keep the sharp-end intact.

"Yep; you're pretty good at it, you know?" The teen was not bashful to comment, crouching next to him to get a better look, and he nodded enthusiastically in return, doubling his efforts while still conveying care to the tool.

"Thanks!" Just as he felt the teen was about to resume her own search, probably someplace else by her contemplative sigh on the Canal, he made good on his pursuit, "Look—I did it!" Dick kept-on the pretense once a small puddle of water was forming on his spot, drawing the attention back to him and a one-armed hug from the happy teen at his side.

"You're right! This is great, now we can have some provisions and let this stream for wanderers." Then, as he was getting rid of her hold, she placed her knuckles on his scalp, acting a little tomboyish by congratulating him like that.

"Stop it! Let go—_get off me!_ Irey!" He yelled to include the speedster that he'd heard up and awake a little while ago, looking at them from the sidewalk of the river.

"Ah, buenos días, good to see you're awake," Milagro all but ignored him as she turned to the chuckling speedster who was at their side quickly, "hope we didn't woke you with all this yelling though."

"Nope, don't worry—I woke up five minutes ago and was watching you all along." Then the freckled teen removed him from the eldest's clutches and gave him a hug of her own.

They were lucky he was such a touchy-feely guy—and that he was in charge of them; otherwise he would have succumbed to his infantile urges to flip his way out of their arms and chastise them for treating him like an overgrown teddy-bear.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Iris asked full of energy, finally liberating him, and for good measure he lowered his scarf and stuck his tongue out at them. That was the kid inside him talking at being pestered so much after _not sleeping _and _helping them. _

"We gather our things, get some water and go where you said." Milagro told her as she went back to her first digging spot for her canteen and slowly gathered some liquid.

"Okay, let me rephrase it, 'how are going to get to Star City in a way that doesn't involve me piggyback-ridding back and forth'?" The speedster clarified unsatisfactory at her own lack of aptitude. "As much as I would love to do it, it's too much strain; we need to find better alternatives. I'm sorry." She added sadly; Dick was left a little sour at her evident guilt over something that didn't require to be ridden with it.

"That's where training comes in, don't worry about. It's not fair of us to be keeping you like a taxi." Milagro was quick to compose the girl with a smile. "I have other methods—though we do need to find a car or something."

Iris lifted her eyebrows.

"And how are we going to be lucky enough to find one with gas?"

Milagro smirked through her eyes, and Dick liked her more by the minute.

"We're not; I have plenty of it on my pack."

And after that, it was just natural to earn a grin from all three of them.

* * *

><p><em>~-11:21hrs. Someplace past the Caballo Reservoir, New Mexico, United States.<em>

"Say," Iris started and Dick was already prepared for the words on the speedster's mouth on the back seat of the Bora they found, "how long until we get there?"

He saw the awaited cringe on the latina's shoulder.

"Hours."

Five minutes of a sulking redhead at the continuous seat next to the driver, while she watched the isolated scenario boringly.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

Silence.

"How 'bout now?"

"No."

Somehow Dick found this extremely familiar.

He saw Iris attempt to compose herself; playing with the dented belt she strapped onto the seat to herself like any good girl, and knew she would be succumbing to her urges in a moment or two.

"… so, are we there yet?"

The grin on his part inevitable as he kept pretending to be sleeping; it was good to be on the other side of the show for a change—the spot usually belonged to Donna or Garth, while in such meantime, he and Roy were the one's dealing with the agitated Wally.

"I already told you, we won't be there for _hours._" The sister of Jaime Reyes told her with very little leftover patience as she drove. They had been avoiding going into populated towns, since most of the territories appeared to be completely run-over by Leviathan, which, in reality, all it did was hinder their arrival into _additional _hours.

But Dick wasn't about to argue the point with the Military on their group, knowing far too well the means were proper of their result.

Irey, accurate daughter of Wally, had understood and been supportive on their choice, placing 'shot-gun' and getting into the first car that wasn't a total mess after some time searching in a nearby—occupied, which had resulted in them fleeing the scene with many unnecessary troubles—town; however, once _inside _the car, she quickly got restless on her seat.

A.k.a. Wallace Rudolph West's clone.

Since he had experience with that type of difficulties he quickly faded-out her voice to the background, using the time to go back on his General Stratagem so far yet again (there were one too many complications he kept finding every single time he revised his plans. It only made him tighten his security measures, but resources scarce as they were, it was too troublesome); her father was more handful anyway, but Milagro was new to this specific problematic, and maybe the girl being so uptight wasn't going to work in the nearby future if this were going to be their normal travelling accommodations.

"Can't this go any faster?" Iris asked pouting at the car, clear she meant no harm, "we've been driving for _hours. _It shouldn't take _this long _to get to California if we were in New Mexico!" the teen finished, placing her head on the corresponding airbag in defeat.

"Actually, _I've _been driving for hours; _you, _on the other hand, have been _complaining _for hours." He heard the testy tone Milagro took as she aimed the ginger a glare the other pouted at, seeing she had irritated her friend, which, in turn, seemed to quell the brunette for the moment. "I'm going as fast as I can without actually spending-out most of the gas. You need to be patient."

"But this is boring—and we're losing time," the redhead justified, no doubt to reduce the irritation aimed at her constant inquires to the other female, "maybe if we find another route—"

"**This is** the fastest way to get there. If you're so bored go to sleep or something—look, even Robbie isn't complaining."

He saw the redhead turn her head and stare at him for a few minutes before returning her attention to the other dark haired member of their ragged-team.

"That's 'cause he's asleep." She responded in a dry drawl.

"So then go to sleep like I told you." The driver aimed curtly. Ending the conversation at finding the understandable solution to the dilemma.

"But he's like, eight or something, that's why he can take a nap; I'm _fifteen—_I don't take naps!" She exclaimed offended by the idea like any good-impatient teenage-meta. It was only because he was so familiar with them that his juvenile inclinations were restrained from being very much offended likewise.

'_Plus, I don't think I'm eight; nine or something.' _He thought conflicted with his small size that procured those misinterpretations back when he had been the right age. So what if he wasn't that tall for his age? He grew-up pretty well if he might say so, so who cared if he looked younger than what he actually was?

"Yeah, well, you could have fooled me with the way you're acting." Milagro was quick to retort, and Iris glared at her before puffing out and crossing her arms; making a point to look everywhere except at the olive-skin teen.

'_Wait for it…' _Dick reflected, having seen the muscles on the driver's back relax at what she seemed to think was the end of the discussion. _'Ah, to be young and innocent.' _He considered, seeing the weird pleasure Fish boy and Wonder chick had gotten from their own encounters.

"… are we there yet?"

"No!"

"Pppfffttt—ahahahahahahaha!" He couldn't help it, really. It had taken every single amount of his lacking self-control to avoid laughing, so finally, he fell into the need to crack-up at their clowning around, pointing at them as he laughed at their expense. The acrobat had taken serious note of the increasing urge to fall to his age's antics, deeming it as a side-effect; however, at the constant uprising of said effects, he had avoided on telling Jason altogether of his Theory, deciding to keep to himself his increasing fear of anything perpetual that might leave him with the mind corresponding to his body. Such a silly thing like this, was dwelling in his most dreaded preoccupations every single day.

Because, what if with the mind of a child, his memories would follow the pattern and fall into oblivion likewise, leaving him with broken screens of his parents falling and living in an orphanage with no real clue of who he was afterwards?

"You were awake the whole time?!" Iris interrupted him from his increasing anxiety that finally ceased his laughter and left him calming his breath.

"Yeah—you two sure are funny. Doesn't even leave the time to get bored." He opted to continue cheekily instead. Now he wasn't sure his ragged breath was from panic or residual glee.

"You little—I ought to give you a ¡zape para que se te quite (15)!" Milagro chastised him in her fried nerves, and he elevated his hands in surrender.

"I knew it—the 'good-boy act' doesn't fool us anymore, right Milagro?" Iris continued; her infectious grin already bypassing the charade. "You're a rascal alright!"

He shrugged in defeat and slumped to his seat, fidgeting slightly.

"…so—"

"**Don't. **Even. **Ask." **

It was going to a long ride—an almost thirteen-hours long drive (16).

He hoped Irey didn't get the idea to ask how much was the driving time to California.

* * *

><p><em>~-15:47hrs. Gallop Route, New Mexico (almost border with Arizona), United States.<em>

It was hastily becoming maddening to continue their travel. Even with their assets, their lodgings needed some serious adjustments, like, for example **a faster car** than a 'Bora Sport' of ancient times, back when they still produced the automobiles. They had a bathroom brake hours ago, and Milagro had taken advantage to stretch her stressed muscles from driving a severely hard-wheel that any respectable sports-car had. Right now, she supposed they weren't going-on that bad, time's sake at least; but they could definitely go better. Cities around the area were heavily populated plus under Leviathan's Dictatorship, so that kept pestering the teen to ungodly measures, because they couldn't take the faster routes—like the expressway—for fear of being spotted and captured.

She didn't chanced a glance at the co-pilot who seemed 'too bored' to make more unnecessary dialogue; but she had thanked the freckled girl _immensely_ when she had reactivated the battery of the dead car with her meta powers. The daughter of Flash was certainly amazing, she contemplated with a smile, risking that look at the teen who lazily stared beyond sun up above.

Afterwards, she brought her chocolate eyes at the child in the rear-back seat, who also kept glued to the window frame behind her own seat at the insipid landscape; the window just a little low to let some air in. A frown marred behind her gear as she contemplated the Gothamite's back-story.

No matter how much she looked into it, it just didn't make sense.

Milagro wasn't sure what to make of Robbie. She sincerely didn't want to add him on her List of "People after their heads"—she was sure he meant no harm, but the amount of mistrust and incongruity such a small boy was leading refused to point much in his favor. Iris was certainly not interested in deepening too-much in the kid's background, something she didn't found all that disconcerting, for she could see that was just the way the other teenager was, though it reduced no less, her suspicion to see what was the Malone hiding so fervently.

'_Argh—why can't I just _figure-out _what he's hiding?!' _Crossed the recurrent notion to her mind, and she wanted to fume out or at least grip her hair in agitation. If he only told her the truth about him, she would be more than glad to help him—she really would! Robbie was a bright boy for his age, and with their resources combined (because he had to had some _unbelievably __**good **_resources to gather this much information that they _wouldn't _have dreamt to) they could really stand a chance against Leviathan.

"Robbie, you said you had brothers, right?" The ginger at her right broke her train of thought, and she glanced at her companion who only smiled at the noticeable direction of her attention towards them, in what seemed to be an invitation to join their chat.

Milagro could really use a chat about now; what was slowly becoming a chronic headache was something she wanted to leave behind in search of another distraction.

Or ways to know more about Robbie. He might slip and leave anything-out unintended, although the sister of Jaime Reyes had noted the proclaimed Gothamite was sharp.

It was definitely worth a shot. Not like she could lose anything from it.

"Yeah,—and a sister." She watched attentive how he seemed constricted by the sudden question, almost making it appear as though he didn't want to talk about them. She made a mental note to inquire about it later, highlighting 'siblings' on the List of things that might lead him to reveal his true intentions.

However his sudden change in demeanor left her with another protruding concept as to why he probably didn't wanted to address the topic of his siblings.

Because it was the way she reacted when they mentioned hers.

Her grip on the wheel tightened, and only by empathy alone, she casted the redhead a glance signaling that maybe they should change subject, but said nothing when her new-founded friend overlooked it.

"She must really spoil you rotten! You make a very cute little brother for sure!"

"Ah, not really,"

"Really, you do! And how many are they? Do you guys get along well, or are you the type of siblings that fight a lot?" The perky curious voice of the only Meta asked, undoubtedly interested to know more about her new buddy. In her case, Milagro only saw the tensed features of the kid she was unintentionally placing in an uncomfortable position.

'_Maybe they're dead.' _And she really hoped they weren't, because losing your brother or sister was one of the worst feelings one had to keep enduring day, after day, **after day.**

While devastating, it was the natural course of life to bury your parents—not backwards, and definitely not your siblings who are supposed to have your back until the last of your days.

"…I get along with them,—but we do fight sometimes I guess…" Milagro saw the sad sight he made and bit her inner cheek, _'He does talk in present time… but doesn't sound that sure...' _She made her decision, and was about to finally step-in from the dangerous territory and change the topic, "how about you and your brother?" he redirected the attention instead, and she followed his path and turned to the girl.

"He's right—you have a brother right?"

"Not much—we get along most of the time because we've been together since we were born." The speedster explained whole-heartily, and Milagro smiled at the affection behind the words. "He's my best friend." Ended the girl with the surviving brother along with her pretty smile.

'_I know what you mean.' _Echoed the lament on her head; it just wouldn't be smart to add it to the conversation.

"That's cool—but he _did _look younger than you." The child somewhat asked, bringing out her curiosity at the inquiry behind his sentence.

"He did?" She incorporated herself; aiding the attempts. "I thought you said you guys were twins. How does that work?"

"It's a long story," Irey swatted away like nothing, "basically our powers made our Metabolism unstable with the Speed Force and we had some 'aging problems' that I took care-of—thus leaving me "older" than Jai. He also lost connection with the Speed Force because of it."

Milagro popped an eyebrow and nodded.

"What _is _the Speed Force?" Robbie asked reaching the middle place behind them and bringing himself-up between both of the girls' seats; it appeared the child was no longer in the distressed mood.

"It's an energy field that lets us Speedsters have all our powers or variations of them. My dad used to explain it a lot better, but I guess that's essentially it." Iris tried to explain simply to Robbie, and Milagro nodded, understanding the concept watching the kid repeat her motions.

"So your brother doesn't have powers like you? Is that why he didn't come with us?"

"Kinda—though he doesn't really _need _them, you know? He's super smart!" The redhead spoke proudly. "I bet your siblings are smart too."

Oh no.

"Sure—they know a lot of stuff." Robbie responded abashed again.

"What are their names?"

"I—I'm sorry," the boy said instead with a somber countenance, "I don't really want to talk about them…"

At Milagro's quick stare with Iris she found the speedster pinpointed the mistake.

"Oh God—no,—it's okay! I'm sorry! I didn't wanted to make you feel bad, just thought we could know each other better you know?"

"It's fine." He told the preoccupied ginger with understanding and Milagro nodded to add her piece to attempt avoiding the crumbling face of the girl who kept its pace with not much avail. "I just miss them is all." The kid added timidly, and it lifted Iris' spirits a bit, seeing he wasn't angry at her.

It also made her feel considerably better for her friend.

"I'm sure they miss you too—and that they are alright." Irey smiled as the child nodded and then, shy of his actions, went back on his seat behind the brunette.

"I'm kinda tired, is it okay if I sleep a little?"

Milagro found their chance and nodded in-time with Iris.

"You go ahead, we'll be taking a resting spot in a few hours, and cook something to eat; we'll wake you then." That said, Robbie curled to his side against the window panel and apparently went to rest. You could never really tell by his attire, so she placed her finger to her hidden lips to usher Iris into silence while they made sure he was asleep, and had no inconvenience as the younger girl smiled and agreed to it, relaxing on her spot and staring-out again at the scenario. They drove for minutes in silence, and suddenly she felt the hand of the teen on her shoulder demanding her attention. The brunette turned to her, and saw the Meta signaling to the backseat were the crumpled boy was completely relaxed in his spot.

"I think he's finally asleep." The redhead stated in a murmur, not removing her hidden emeralds from him. "His breathing is steady now."

At the quick glance by the rearview mirror she conceded.

"Yeah, he's out."

"Poor Robbie," Iris sighed, "he must be exhausted." Then she returned her greens at her in concern. "His family must be worried sick about him too. He's only a kid."

Milagro held her gaze and then pointedly observed their object of interest some more; a calculating frown masking her profile.

"About that," she kept her voice low enough for only the two of them with the windows slightly open and the wind gashing-out as it was; this was a good chance as any to dare the subject, "don't you find it odd?"

"What?"

"How his family sent an eight-year old all the way to _Mexico _with Classified—" _'And that's putting it mildly,' _she kept to herself, "—Information?"

"Well, yeah, but he does come from Gotham. That's practically the Resistance's Home Base." Iris said somewhat confused.

"But still—it's not logical. How come none of his siblings came instead? The Malone's are highly influential figures on Gotham alright, but you said so yourself: he comes _from Gotham._ How did he get out of there, and found _you _all the way from there?" She risked another contemplative glance checking with a sigh of relief his breaths were steady. "It definitely looks like he **did **travelled, but—"

"And how do you know he wasn't with them before?" Iris interrupted her, defending her friend by trying to placate her with another theory. "You saw how painful it was for him to talk about them just a little ago. So maybe the reason he doesn't want to is because they—… they're no longer here…"

The Military In-training frowned again, then spared another watch at the child closer.

"Okay, I'll give you that—definitely sounds better than the alternative." At Iris' widening orbs she realized her mistake and shook her head violently, waving her right hand to defuse her sentence. "That's not what I mean—I mean, _ay Dios (_17)_,_ that came out wrong." She sighed to calm herself, now a less anxious with Iris seeing it was just a bad-choice of words. "I just mean it sounds better than him walking all the way to you by himself."

The redhead complied.

"And by the way, he didn't found me—**I** found him while he was about to become the meal for some stupid kids that terrorize our area." She said with righteous fury on her small voice, including her twin in her sentence. It was Jai's job to take care of the civilians for the time being.

The olive-skin girl could recognize it; the world was mad. And she'd certainly hadn't known that either.

"Alright, just go with me here," she said trying to piece what they both knew together, hoping it became clearer if it was out of her head, "so let's think he wasn't alone when he first got out from Gotham,"

"And when I found him, he was surrounded by some teenaged idiots who always steal, and disturb my area. They had him on the top of a tree because they were _so many_ for him, so I had to rescue him. Poor thing couldn't even get down from there." Irey related the events and the latina felt her eyebrows go lower at the horrible things that could have happened if not for the freckled speedster.

"Okay, so then he couldn't really have been traveling alone if he can't defend himself." Milagro rectified their data, nodding to herself at Iris' input. "That means something happened to whomever of his family was with him—I'm guessing someone of his siblings, maybe his sister by how he reacted—so he was left alone until you found him, right?"

"Sounds logical," Then the twin watched the boy for a change as she, in the meantime, kept her eyes on the road and turned the wheel a little; they were now on Arizona territory, so at least that was something, "his clothes do look like they have seen better days, and he's kinda skinny and small. When he got with me, and my family we fed him, and he was really thirsty and when he washed his face I kinda think I saw something on his hairline, like a scar. He also has some on his ears. Do you think he was left alone for much?"

"Probably, maybe that's why he wears so much clothes, and the shades; maybe he feels safer like that. He's a kid. What did he said to you then? How did you get the idea to take him to Mexico?"

"I asked him about his family, he was very ambiguous about his dad, saying he was "around"," she added with quotes and everything, "wait—I think he said his dad was with his siblings, so maybe they all died?" Iris remembered, her face agitated, and Milagro winced at that. "Said his mom sent him there to find someone—that'd be _you." _The Meta pointed at her.

"Alright, so let's assume his mother is alive at the best, and if he had been travelling with the rest of his family before they got either separated, or worse—well,… you know," Milagro told her companion instead, "his mom had told him he would find me in Mexico, and he would know about us, and Jaime, and everything else because he's from Gotham and a Malone?"

Iris shrugged one shoulder shyly.

"And he knows Spanish because he's a Malone—and Spanish is just a variation of Italian." She cocked her head, making things better, "Definitely had an accent, not that notorious, but still there."

"He did said his dad knew mine—that's how he knew I was Flash's kid. His parents probably wanted to leave him prepared in case something like this happened." Then the redhead lowered her head sadly. "It's awful out there for kids now—I'm surprised to know there are kids at all who get to live through this."

That was true. Milagro hadn't seen a kid since she was one either.

"That means he's our responsibility now." The latina spoke with decision, crossing looks with the speedster who affirmed the statement. Now that she had a clearer idea as to why the secrecy of the kid, and a clearer Point of View as well, she could buy why he was so smart but avoided speaking much of himself. "Hopefully we'll be able to see if his Mom is where we are headed once we get to where you want."

"I hope so too, if not, we'll make sure nothing happens to him." With that said, they both felt silent; the strain of the day making itself present on their tired minds, but now they had an objective, and a new place for Robbie Malone with them.

Too bad they just gave the acrobat a way-out by themselves without actually knowing it.

* * *

><p><em>~- 18:00hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"Batman. Thank you for coming here." Tim spoke to the Man in the Mask as he approached the Main Console where he sat. The Wayne remained impassive, and he wondered if the male had a clue to his Alerts at all; Red Robin knew Bruce had been within the City for some hours now, so he hadn't pursue him more to let him in on Talia's appearance, deciding to procure a more adept notation, thus widening his search, and get a more precise answer that would come in the Dark Knight's inquiries about his Report.

"You said it was important to be here." Batman's voice echoed in its roughness. "I'm here. What did you find?"

He went through his personal files, using the hidden compartment on his Gauntlet that allowed him a very complex holographic computer of their Base. Wherein Cassandra preferred simplicity on names for her files, the third on their flock did not let anything at risk; everything over-analytic and folder upon folders that needed a different set of passwords any indistinct time he measured so. Tim had reconsidered his options heavily once the Homunculus found-out about his mother in the prowl again, and so, had decided to remove all recent files referring to the Head of the al Ghul's to his personal computer only. The grown man in the cape had done similar when Jason stayed here the first night.

Precautions were needed; always be two steps ahead (at least) of your enemy.

The screen opened was green, and adeptly knowing his way on his numerous array of heavily encrypted data, he moved to the one he wanted to show his General.

"I found Talia at 2100 hours, and immediately aimed to call you. Seems like she handed something out to Wonder Woman when she searched for her all the way to Prince's Base. I tried to see what it was when she looked at the content, but the resolution is not enough to actually let us know anything but assuming it's some type of picture of an unknown female. Talia went away, trailing with her League of Assassins that don't seem affected at all by our current situation—neither does she, of course. It's probable that the amount of her resources she found her way and survived all this years by stayind hidden on another Underground Base, or maybe, by the looks of her seeking out Wonder Woman, she's also with Leviathan. No doubt she's up to something; otherwise she wouldn't have made such a careless mistake by seeking Prince on her own House at everyone's inspection." He relayed efficiently, watching with care how Batman barely spared the exotic woman on his screen a mere glance without much in response. Tim hadn't expected much, but it was still a little shocking to study the void that was Batman when nothing short-of moved him anymore.

"Then it seems Damian's anger wasn't without reason." Batman brought out instead, his glare heavy on him, and he froze in retaliation.

He hadn't conceived the Demon or Jason's input in this. They had both all but stormed-out after their quarrel almost got physical, and kept themselves on the Homunculus' Quarters. Stephanie hadn't remained with him either, and Cassandra had been the only one to seat at his side after the growing confrontation was avoided. So he taught her his recent discoveries. She was the only one he could actually trust asides from Bruce and Alfred. Dick had left him (probably due to Jason), and his own void had increased, so he sought-out after the assistance of his more than capable sister; he was the brains while he remained out of commission, and she procured to force of their attacks. Even then, after she left to presumably handle another Session on the Arsenal's Room briefly before she left the Base, he still had the concept the two snakes on their Cave were still put on their place.

Bruce had been in the Arsenal's Room before Cassandra left to go there.

"He told you." Tim conceded with no regrets to his actions; there were none.

"No. You just did."

Just when he thought he could have a conversation with Batman and be at a par with him, Bruce had to come and show him he was wrong; it added material to the perpetual construction of his mind to let him know he was yet to be prepared to be the Perfect Soldier for his General. The only viable option was to Educate himself more.

"Talia has made it clear she wants him." He spoke emotionless, his crystal blues levering to the whites of Batman's mask. "I simply let him know of her return, and our position with her." The third Robin finished relaying; not a spark of remorse on his carefully selected words.

"It's not your responsibility to question his loyalty, Tim. Though I can see the recent accommodations have been _tiring _for everyone."

"Jason shouldn't be here, Bruce." The third bird saw his chance to re-address the subject, and attempted to reason with the Gothamite. "These past weeks have shown he hasn't changed at all. He spends most of his time with Damian, and they're always searching for a fight. It can't be healthy. He needs to leave." The raven-haired man spoke earnestly, conveying the need he felt at his surrogate Father. Bruce had no idea what went-on inside the Cave—the man was barely in their Home Base to begin with, and the cameras he used to have on their Original Batcave had stayed there; there weren't enough funds for them to waste them on Bruce keeping surveillance on his personal space anymore. It was a small symbol of trust he had placed in them; trusting them to behave around each other, and trusting them in keeping everything safe within the foundation. He was simply making his quarrels with the Rogue Vigilante, and the Demon Brat public to him now, because maybe that was the problem in the first place:

That he hadn't been completely honest on what he thought about them. Had remained quiet and endured like every single time Damian had messed-up.

"Disagreements aside, he is not going anywhere, and will stay because I say so, Tim. I do not expect you to shake hands with Jason, I'll handle him, but I do expect you to be civil with Damian." The Dark Knight glared at him, and Tim hardened his gaze in hurt contempt; the blow hard to swallow. "His relationship with Jason is not your concern, and if they are the ones searching for a fight just don't give it to them. You are smarter than that."

"And that's why I'm telling you that Jason's not doing anyone good in here, Bruce. I get you feel responsible for him, but he's a grown man already, and he won't learn to play good again." He rested his case, sighing and shaking his head mildly at the stoic contour of the older male, knowing nothing would budge him from where he stood. "Damian and I are civil to the limits of his uneducated temper." Tim explained, not about to discuss his personal involvement with Jason at all, less if the former billionaire had stated he would handle his Forerunner personally. "You know I would do anything you ask me, and save him if you tell me to do so," and he had—so many times now, that his stare was practically reminding the Bat he had always been responsible to Damian in the past, even when the Demon spawn wasn't to be handled with that amount of courtesy, "but don't ask me to be more civil with him than what I already am, Bruce. I still think we can't trust him as far as I can throw him, and Talia being alive will prove us that in one way or another. I just hope you're right about him, because if you're not, then we won't be able to take the blow."

"Then I assume you would be more than willing to see to it more personally." Bruce answered him instead, his way to close the subject hurtful in more ways than one; he barely spent time with his Father figure, and when he did, the older man was always so detached—too detached that even _he _wasn't able to bring emotion or praise out of him. It saddened him, but again, he endured, nodding to the Batman's next order.

"I moved the files from the Computer to my own, and have an idea of where we can triangulate Talia's whereabouts to keep a closer eye at her."

The Wayne Head conceded his tactics with a slight motion of his Cowl.

"How's your leg?"

"Operational; can't handle strenuous activity for now, but I will in a few weeks or so."

"Good. Triangulate Talia, and keep me posted; I'll let you know of your next task after we find her." Bruce relayed, taking his leave without much else in response, heading towards the exit of their Whereabouts.

"Of course. I let Cass in on what I found, and Stephanie and the others just know the basics." He added before the Bat was completely out of sight; a question in his sentence his teacher caught expertly.

"Keep it like that, and keep searching." The hollow of his voice came, and then nothing.

Tim was alone again.

* * *

><p><em>~- 00:11hrs. Antique shop, Old-Star City, California.<em>

"Tell me again, _how _are we going to find whoever you want to find when you don't have the slightest idea of where we're going?" Milagro asked, testy from the _extensive _drive that just became too unbearable an hour ago, and had the speedster taking care of that travel time by her own, securing Robbie in an old Barber's Shop before going for her, and then her cargo. The ginger had been burning with impatience, extremely anxious now that they were finally where she wanted, but when Robbie asked the location of where they were headed, Iris told them she wasn't sure, since she hadn't kept touch with her acquaintance she made them travel _all the way _here.

It brought a twitch to her right eye. While she tried not to show it, she had a strong temper when prodded, and after hours of an impatient speedster on the companion seat, it was just too much to handle.

Robbie, at least, was in a brighter mood, what with all the sleep he got, but seemed cautious about the place. After arriving to the abandoned Barber's Keep (they found Robbie hidden in a counter; he said something about hearing someone coming in before), they walked around the place some. This was unquestionably more populated than the sites they had been in, and Iris was quick to add that her living area had a lot less civilians or members of the Rebellion running around. It wasn't long before they heard bullets filling the air, and they quickly got Robbie and themselves out of the way and inside this Antique Shop, hoping the shooting would end-up shortly.

That had been for the last fifteen-minutes, and she had to wonder if this was really a good idea.

Problem was, Irey said it was.

"It's not like I could text her to see if she can 'meet-up'." Iris answered annoyed in her own way. However it was mostly to being so close and yet so far; she removed her goggles, deciding they weren't doing much for her right now.

"But maybe there's an easier way to call her?" Robbie tried, apparently to diffuse the tension in the air.

"Normally our parents got us, or we would just go to each other's houses." The redhead supplied with melancholy.

"And do you remember where her house is?" Robbie asked, while Milagro shrugged half-heartily, accepting the idea of the infant; anything to get them moving, really.

"Of course I do." Was the answer from the Meta.

"It's worth a shot." The Military teen stated; their route now with a name to her relief. "Lead the way Quick-feet!" She proclaimed with glee now that they had a path to follow, unknowing the ring her adequate nickname had on the boy.

'_Sounds almost like Fleet-feet,' _Robbie had thought afterwards.

"Aren't we going to be an easy shot in here?" Milagro felt Robbie ask at her left, frowning in retaliation after sharing a glance with Iris at the good point he made.

She got on one knee, unbuckling her helmet and placing it afterwards under the boy's head instead. The fit was a little loose, but she still strapped it as he grabbed her hands and shook his head to remove the object.

"I don't need this—you can keep it." He said, but she swatted his hands away from the secure lock she had placed.

"Nonsense, I have Kevlar to help me and Irey has super speed and accelerating healing. You need it more than us. We really need to search some for you too now that I mentioned it." She said, referring to the Kevlar armor she wore. At the silence from the boy she continued. "Just make sure to not lose it so you can return it to me later." Milagro explained, getting to her feet and accommodating her free locks. She felt Iris grab her hair, and smiled in girly fashion, loving the careful touch on her mane.

"Your hair is sooo pretty and long~! You should wear it like this more often!" Was the comment of said ginger, absolutely loving both low-wavy pigtails.

"I would, but they do get in the way." Milagro explained with remorse, enjoying the intimate handling; her mother stopped doing that once they found-out about Jaime's death and they went full-on on their jobs within the Army. "Your texture is better than mine for that—and you have a very beautiful color to it." Milagro added, making sure to let the lone twin know how much she like said girl's hair—especially when she was running from one place to another. It looked very pretty.

"Are we done talking about _hair _now?" Both of them heard the impatient male ask out.

"Yours is pretty too Robbie, don't worry." Iris told him, and Milagro enjoyed what she guessed, was the child rolling his eyes.

"_I don't care._ It's just hair."

"Hmm, though you might need a cut now that I mentioned it—"

"Leave my hair alone and let's just go." The latina heard the boy place aggravated, even seeing with amusement how he crossed his little arms over his chest in a fume. It was adorable, really. "Don't you think we should ask around if its safe before out there? We'll be sitting ducks for some guy—" he stopped, probably at her raised eyebrows, "—or girl" Milagro smiled in satisfaction as did Iris, taking pleasure in how they all were getting along better as the hours went-by, "with a gun."

"It might be better to scout out. If nothing else, we can ask someone on the Resistance out there." And Iris frowned at her advice, but seemed to concede if the pout forming on the redhead's mouth was any indication to the brunette in-charge.

"Alright, so I guess I'll go there and ask." Milagro watched said speedster conclude, and had to agree it was the best choice to get in and out fast. "Stay here, I'll be right back." The girl said, placing the lenses back on her freckled face.

"Wait,—do you even know which ones are the good guys? What if you ask the wrong person, you can barely see anything; it's too dark." Once again, the boy made a good point, so she reconsidered their options.

They did train her to work on the dark a little; she wasn't _that _comfortable doing it, but she could.

"He's right—maybe it'd be better if I go—" the sixteen-year old was saying instead.

"I'm nine." before being interrupted by the apparently nine-year old.

'_Guess that clears out the mystery about his age. Doesn't look nine though.'_

"They won't hurt me, and if they do I can hide anywhere."

While it held a logic neither girl was going to debate, the point remained unmoved.

"_No." _

"_No way!"_

He was nine.

"Look, the bad guys will wear Empire clothes—"

"—and have better armory—" Milagro added to the Meta's explanation, gaining a grin from said girl.

"—right! So I can do this _and _get away faster if I blow my cover." Then Iris pointed at herself proudly. "Flash's kid here!"

"Okay, just be careful, we'll wait here." Robbie conceded, and it really was so cute the boy attempted to do the parenting to either of them, so she placed her hand on his shoulder with care, nodding towards Iris.

"Don't worry—I'll be back in a Flash!" And then she was off. They waited a moment or two in their place, not anywhere nearby a window for their own precaution before she kneeled to her backpack, placing her rifle to her chest in preparation as opposed to having it against her back while on the strap like always.

"Do you still have that knife I gave you?" She asked and sighed in relief at the nod of Robbie. "Good, you're probably not going to use it, but it's better if you have it just in case. We don't know if the shooting will move closer to here or not. If that happens, you go over that counter and hide, and wait until I say it's okay to get out, okay?" She stressed, keeping her part on the eye-contact as much as she could; this was important, there was the chance that eventually could happen, and she needed to prepare him. At his hesitant nod she continued. "If by any reason you don't hear me after everything goes quiet you stay where you are and wait for Irey, okay?"

"…okay." He said in that small voice of him and she uncovered her lips a little to reassure him with her warm smile briefly, surprised when he was the one to place the cloth against her nose and lips by his own.

"You said the air is poison."

"Yeah, thanks for that. You know, it wouldn't be bad to teach you to fire a gun," She cocked her head, contemplating her ammo and listing her equipment to see if she had some way to teach the kid without wasting much ammo, "we can use some minutes of the breaks we take on the road to have you prepared better."

"I'm back!" Iris presence at her side removed the child's attention from her and she got up; glad her friend was safe.

"Gracias a Dios (18)," Milagro said, "so what did you find?"

"This guy told me they often saw her some kilometers from here, not that far away, maybe one or two, problem might be that I checked the area and it's full of Armed Forces. Their security is tight, and I wasn't really able to go much further, 'cause I can't really _see _that good in the dark." Her friend explained a little sourly at what she probably thought was a failure of her initial mission.

None of that was true.

"Good. Then I can handle that by myself; I'm trained to operate in the dark, the dessert at night is as dark as it gets anyways," Milagro added with good will and confidence, spurting a smile from the other teen, "we'll go there together—I'm sure you secured a spot where you took surveillance on the sit., right?" At the redhead's confirmation she placed her hands on her hips in victory. "Perfect! You'll take me there first, and then come back for Robbie," she lowered her head toward the kid at her side, "it'll only be for a little moment, okay? You remember what we just talked about, right?"

"Yes, geez, don't worry, I'll be fine. Just go, and I'll meet you there with Irey later." Robbie said in a strong voice that surprised both of them; the kid was unusually calm in such horrible ambience, but it could all be a façade—they could hear the pellets going off in the air, and screams in the background.

"That's right, I'll be back for you sooner than you think!" Iris went-by, obviously urging her to keep the only male in their small group with his confidence that everything would go right.

"Let's go then. Go hide Robbie, just so that Irey knows where to find you."

Both teens had left shortly after the boy got inside the counter, where a sink stood; this was her third ride on the redhead's back, and it still felt like the first Milagro had experienced with the teen. It really took no less than a few minutes before the Meta holding her decreased her speed; they've gone around most of the battles' spots, trying to avoid them as much as possible, but even doing so, they were still caught in certain clashes that had Iris doubling her speed, and Milagro holding for dear life at the pressure that created, both avoiding some grenades that had other people they left behind yelling at their skin burning; once they found the clear spot, she hopped-off from Iris' back, coughing a little at the gunpowder from the attacks they skidded, whilst the Meta coughed full-out, being without protection on her mouth, against her elbow's articulation.

"You alright? That was some serious warzone we escaped from," Milagro whispered; barely audible, and the other affirmed her well-being. "Go back to Robbie, I'll sit here, and wait for you, then we move to the next step. _Be careful."_ The other teen was gone after a thumbs-up. She was also faced with the reality of the enormous inconvenience of talking in such a compromised position, so nearby the enemy. The brunette would need to teach her comrades the adequate sign language they used for this operations in her Military Forces, so to avoid being detected.

Binoculars out from one of her pockets, she adjusted the almost-never used infrared that came with them; her teacher, Mr. Barrientos, had taught her the importance to only use what you had when you absolutely needed it; these binoculars worked with some ancient battery that barely held-up for five minutes, and then needed to be reconnected to any electricity source (that only Colonies of the Empire had access to), so she was wise to keep them unused, and without the battery installed.

Milagro studied the perimeter, paying attention to every figure on the plane; so far, the forces encompassing the area were seventeen, twelve of those armed to the teeth, while the other five had significantly less gunfire. They circled a border around specific points, not leaving enough space between one-another to be left unguarded, and some bodies were in the process of being piled-out by another six unarmed military, who picked them from random places all over the floor; no doubt they were going to set the pile of dead bodies on fire once they reunited them in that big stack. Her stomach felt queasy, not the least bit eager to smell human flesh crisped tonight.

The cadavers unquestionably belonged to their falling Resistance, and while discouraging, it made her will to set things straight and _finally _involving herself in the mix stronger.

She had a purpose that she could now proceed to complete, and nothing short of her dying on the field, would stop her onwards.

A slight movement at 17'o clock caught her awareness, and she hid further on her ditch; her chest pressed against the dirty-humid concrete, waiting for recognition on the movement as she scanned again with her artifact. The girl was barely able to catch the shift a considerable amount of meters before—but it wasn't really possible. Milagro could swear she saw something else move just a respectable distance from her. Brow furrowed, she crawled with her elbows in place, approaching the place only the bare minimum, because she was waiting for Iris and Robbie, and leaving her post would be irresponsible, and peaked from an old tire just asides some looted trashcans.

If she tried her hardest there was that faint sound of yelling in that direction, so probably what she saw wasn't human, but a weapon, which made more sense, really. The object had moved way too fast to be a regular person, and as far as she knew, Iris was the only speedster left, now that she was aware of her twin's condition. Deciding it had her immediate attention, if she could get some information regarding the Resistance Status here to start collecting data everywhere, she returned to her previous mark; waiting for her both her companion's before actually going to see the less dangerous battle going-on close by.

Her wait wasn't long, and Robbie was already hopping-off Irey, the speedster about to go for her cargo she left at the Antique Shop, hidden from opportunistic scavengers or worse, so she stopped her by grabbing the thin wrist firmly. Everything they might need was here, and leaving to get something that would stand in their way, in case they needed to flee was unnecessary.

Shaking her head, she got closer to the other two members of her party, enough for them to see each other's outline in the dark and infrared binoculars inside her pocket. Placing a finger to her lips she saw two heads nodding; the outlines of the three lightning at the source of incoming fire from the pit burning human flesh meters from him, and before they could turn, she ceased their actions, by shaking her head once anew. There was no need for that.

Instead, Milagro redirected their attention, taking advantage of that light to signal herself, then towards the place behind them at her left, quelling both her friends with her hands to let them know she would only take a minutes. At Iris' confirmation, she nodded at both before crawling away. She barely saw how Robbie handed the redhead some cloth to place on her nose for the saturated smell the carcasses were making already; the military girl was not stupid, and knew the two had an idea of what was behind them, now that they were surely watching her back.

It was a hard task to hide the odor of burnt hair and all that came with it.

Milagro went deeper than what she had originally, the orange glows from the flames no longer in the capacity to aid her, so she had to resort to taking out her own gadget, getting close enough to watch more than ten men brawling in the distance, while other's—nobody that showed fire weaponry of any kind—resorted to throw stuff at each other. The Resistance people clearly had the upper hand in this match for a change; the soldier's screaming for help more audible now that she had gotten closer to the mix, and completely surrounded by close to fifteen rebellion forces. In here, the difference of five men appeared to be more than enough as they blocked exits, so she approached one particularly broad man on top of a fallen lighting pole at a corner, who yelled orders around some hidden rebels with him.

So it brought their difference to something higher than just five, it was all fine with her—so long as they didn't ended-up like the ones meters from them. She would also let them know of that group crisping remains of their people and help them do something about it while she was speaking to the man in charge. The latina got to her knees, not crawling anymore, but still moving crouched—something that she wasn't ever going to like or get used to—closer to the man. Just when she was close enough to truly make sense of the orders barked around (the fight already over), her periphery caught a second too late the same shift from before, brown eyes wide at the split second it took to get her to forget placing her guard before something heavy and alive collapsed on top of her, leaving only the whisper of the wind that lashed out a trail above her unprotected skull.

Quickly, she gazed on top of her and only saw a smidge of one (blue? It was too dark to really tell for sure) eye popping on the brim of the glasses Robbie wore too well, before recognizing the rest of the child who probably saved her life.

A draft wind flew by them one-second later as she recognized her savior, and then, one prominent voiced echoed from whom she was sure was Iris, colliding with the person about to kill her.

"_Oooff!"_

"Wha—who's there?!" The commander yelled, and with their covert position no longer in place, Milagro was about to get up from the floor and in front of the kid to explain when the not-so-subtle squeal of her friend broke the atmosphere.

"Lian! It's you! It's really you! I'm so happy you're okay and I've missed you so much! You have no idea what we went through to find you! I missed you!" Iris' joyous dash of what might've been wonderful declarations of care (if only she slowed a little for them to understand), ceased motion from the captain, and she walked to her friend, careful to keep Robbie out of anyone's prying eyes that had at least five men pointing their guns at them, her face breaking into a smile when she caught sight of the redhead on-top of another girl in reds and yellows, not unlike Robbie had been with her a little while ago.

"Iris?! What're you doing here?" The girl asked, and once the General saw they were just three kids who this girl on his crew apparently was familiar with, he signaled his soldiers to stand put.

"We went here looking for you!" The Meta proclaimed happier than she'd ever heard her, and then, both teens got to their feet; the hold of Iris not the only one participant when they did so, as the younger-looking raven hugged the life out of the speedster in return.

"_I can't believe you're here—I never thought I'd see you again!"_ That girl whispered emotionally, and Milagro cleared her throat a little abashed at partaking in such an intimate moment; it felt wrong to have both girls have her reunion in the presence of so many eyes, and the hostile ambiance. That gained their attention, and she approached them as Iris beamed; the cloth still strapped in a mess of adjustments on her face not hiding her smile, Robbie following her steps.

"Hola," she started, the other smaller girl surveying her through a crimson-domino mask that hid her eyes, "my name's Milagro Reyes, nice to meet you." Milagro extended her hand that got inspected closely by the girl before Iris nudged her, showing approval and then was finally shaking hands with this girl in disguise.

"Hi, Milagro—Reyes? I'm sure I've heard that name before…" the cautious voice on the other part said, removing her gloved-hand quickly from their handshake.

That wasn't unexpected, she considered, by the looks of the girl, she was related to the prior superheroes like her brother, and their Last Name was well known.

"Sir," Robbie's voice brought her out of her momentum, and she felt her orbs widening once she found her friend already next to the big man who seemed more than surprised at the sight of a child, "there are some armed soldiers over there, some meters to the east." She heard him tell the astonished grown-male, pointing at the place, and Milagro excuse herself quickly from the other two girls to follow Robbie. "It's probably better to leave while we can—they're heavily armed." Just as he finished—probably—she reached his side, hastily placing her right hand on his shoulder and shielding him from the piercing eye of the Commander.

"Correct, Sir," then she saluted the way only a Member of Military knew of, her back straight and discipline in check, "this is Milagro Reyes, cadet in-training from the Military Army of Mexico, Sir. We found at 13 o' clock a total of twenty-three soldiers from the Empire, twelve of the pack are heavily armed with what appeared to be some 'AK-47 7.62 x 39 PRK Receiver LOOK', heading guard while the other eleven had some 'Blaser R8 Pro Savanna, 7MM REM MAG' each. Six of those with the lesser artillery were burning a pile," this she added with regret at the crude actions, risking a look at her comrades to find Iris' eyes popped-open like saucers; she guessed the redhead knew she was into guns, but that she probably didn't know much of them—a mistake, of course, because if Milagro knew anything, it was her guns, "they will approach our location at any given time, Sir, so I would like to assist you and your men in any way I can if I'm allowed, Sir."

The distraction had serve its purpose, Milagro saw in victory as the man nodded, barking at his men to gather the ammo from the men they've just finished and forming a perimeter around the area she signaled before looking at her again, and she made the slightest movement to keep covering Robbie from him.

Children weren't safe in here; she recognized the look on the man's face, and while on their side, she wouldn't let him approach Robbie again.

Leviathan offered High Rewards, from positions between his best Colonies, to reassurance of Survival for anyone who captured and handed the Empire children under the age of ten.

People were fickle, even a man in his position like she just witnessed.

"You've done enough, stand guard Soldier, we'll take it from here. Speedy," the General grunted, now distracted that he couldn't watch the child, hopefully thinking he imagined him or something—hopefully, "you in good company, right?"

The girl apparently named 'Speedy' nodded and he returned the gesture, approaching their new-found target when one man came back letting him know they were ready.

"Thanks for your help girl, we'll keep in touch—it's closing to the time you vanish away, so no matter. Oi, we'll keep guarded the area, don't you die on us!"

"I won't, be safe." Speedy answered, and then the man left, mixing in between the buildings, granting the latina the chance she needed.

"Iris, let's get out of here." She said with urgency on her voice, gesturing Robbie with her eyes, and Iris understood all too well; seems she had catched the greedy eyes of the man who just left.

"What are you talking about? Iris, tell me what's going on." Speedy asked, and Milagro shook her head; the conversation could be later, maybe even in the Barber Shop from before.

"Can't explain now Lian—but come with us." The Meta begged with her eyes at the smaller figure in red whilst Milagro went to grab what Robbie saved her from—an arrow? "This place isn't safe for what we need to talk about, I promise I'll get you back to your house once we find a safe spot to explain everything to you."

"Here," Milagro said, approaching the two and handing the arrow to its rightful owner, "nice aim." She praised content at the youngest girl's palpable abilities with her bow.

"Thanks," she said before casting a look at the kid who kept silent during the whole interchange, shyly behind the olive-skin girl, "I don't understand why you're here Iris, nor who your new friends seem to be, but you don't even need to ask me if you need my help—you know you have it." The superhero girl finished content, and Iris hugged her once more in glee. "Hi there," she talked to the kid, and he lowered his head in retaliation.

Surprised by the unusually timid behavior of her friend, Milagro touched his shoulder, her eyes warm at the youngest teen to placate her obvious uncomfortable ambiance with Robbie.

"He's usually not that quiet, but it'd be better if we do get out, no?"

"Sure," Speedy consented, "I know a place, it's not far from here and the path is clear—most of the time."

"It'll do, lead the way Speedy." Milagro spoke, pushing the boy ahead of her so she was kept at the back.

"'_Speedy' _huh?" She heard Iris whisper lightly with affection swelling her tones, and Milagro forced her memory to figure out what it seemed to recognize on some part of her brain.

"_Yeah," _The young hero in mostly reds whispered with the same warmth, and once more, Milagro felt like she was intruding something private. There wasn't any need to be side-by-side with the freckled teen as they crouched and moved like that throughout the street to know said teen had the prettiest smile she could muster by the love adorning her answer:

"_I love it,"_

* * *

><p>(1) "What?".<p>

(2) "…right."

(3) "Aren't you/You're not cold or sleepy?"

(4) "I'm sorry,"

(5) "Well," Though it is also meaning for "good", "fine", "okay," and the likes; however in this context it means 'well'.

(6) "Sure".

(7) See "Chapter V.- Messenger Missing The Hidden Message." In which Damian provides de file depicting the stated to Bruce by Jason's instructions.

(8) See "Chapter VII.- Shouldering what's Become of Us." It's the dead body that Cassandra was searching for after taking care of the other civil war that erupted.

(9) On that note, Cassandra had explained to Stephanie the information they needed was on his cranium, on his Sphenoid and Ethmoid Bones, and took it with them too.

(10) See "Chapter V.- Messenger Missing the Hidden Message." Recap is that basically Jason entered Damian into his small Association with Net and Mage, thus, showing his the pictures of severed extremities that were recently cut of the infants missing back when Leviathan first attacked that just weren't found when most of the bunch was returned to their homes.

(11) Son of Professor Hugo Strange. He's not really bad, more like neutral and had been working with Selina before. For more information you can go to DC Wikia.

(12) Sonic Batarang from the games "Batman: Arkham Asylum" and the Sequel "Batman: Arkham City." It basically gives a radar signal, sound or even explosion to where you throw it or leave it; attracting goons' attention. Didn't actually use it during both games, but figured it came-in handy for a change in here.

(13) "Good morning,".

(14) It's common to find water in riverbends with trees nearby by following an estimate or so amount of distance from the shade they procure, since the roots are being fed by something to have the tree's alive. For more references on how to measure it up, I found this great Article called "Water from Riverbends" by Erik Nissen-Petersen Books/Book3%20water%20from%20dry% .

(15) "[…] swat so that you learn!" It isn't literally translated to that, but it's the message, since if we translate it exactly to what she says it would be "[…] swat so that it removes (from you)!" and doesn't have coherence. It basically means "so that it removes (from you)" those/or that which they are patronizing you from with a 'swat' or 'zape' to the head so that one would think twice before doing it again. Mostly used by women on children, or even grown men.

(16) Some research was made, given I haven't actually been on the States asides from a two-day trip to McAllen once or Laredo more often, so I found two pages, named " " and " ", so the route was given, just like the amount of gas in liters, kilometers, etc. All driving information was taken from there.

(17) "[…]_oh God,_ […]"

(18) "Thank God,"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age Chart:<strong>_

_Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth – 71 years-old._

_Bruce Wayne – 49 years-old._

_Selina Kyle – 47 years-old._

_Richard John Grayson - 9-8 years-old._

_Jason Peter Todd - 29 years-old._

_Cassandra Cain - 27 years-old._

_Stephanie Brown - 26 years-old._

_Timothy Jackson Drake - 24 years-old._

_Damian Wayne - 16-17 years-old._

_Milagro Reyes - 16 years-old._

_Iris West II - 15 years-old._

_Jai West - 14 years-old._

_Lian Harper – 14 years-old._

_Barbara Gordon – 38 years-old._

_Clark Kent – 50 years-old._

_Diana Prince – 49 years-old._

_Oliver Jonas Queen – 50 years-old._

_Dinah Laurel Lance – 45 years-old._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__Alright, that had to be cut there—there needs to be some control, and so, we keep placing the pieces in the Chess board, hopefully we'll arrive soon enough to the parts I can't wait to get to. The last parts were heavily unedited, but I wanted to publish this Monstrosity today before more got in the way like the need to add more to it. Also, just as a pointer, all Titles for the Chapters are mixed with something behind-lines. This is one is one of my favorites so far. I do enjoy playing with words. _

_Thanks for reading. A big shout-out to Sam, Soph and Anon who keep reading. This is something that I wrote for myself, so seeing it is being read, even if I hadn't updated in quite a while makes it all the more worthy. Until next chapter._


	15. Crumbling Chessmen

_**Author's Notes: **__Okay, this one is basically a breather—kinda. Many important things happen, but what makes it said 'breather' is that it's the preamble of a heavily packed Chapter XVI, placing the bases needed to avoid making the next installment that heavy. Most characters make an apparition, if only by mention, but, once more, 'breather'. Also, wanted to have this done tomorrow, being on the actual day of our Independence Day (is labeled on the 16__th__ of September, but the 'Grito de Dolores' was made, in reality, the night of the 15__th__ until the early hours of the 16__th__, so there's that), but got it earlier, so here ya go.  
><em>_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, non-descriptive Violence, and some Angst._

__**EDITED: Saturday September 15th, 2012. Minor Grammar.**

_Friday September 14__th__, 2012 Words: 7,666_

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XV.- Crumbling Chessmen._

_~- 00:49hrs. Queen Household, Old-Star City, California._

_"Wow",_ the girl named Milagro gave a whistle of admiration at the neatly decorated room, eyeing the beautiful draperies hanging in shades of reds and fuchsias harmoniously, "you have the best room I've ever seen—hands down."

"Thanks," Lian shrugged with a polite smile, her gas mask the only thing hanging by the cords to her neck, as if it was some piece of jewelry. Ollie had told her to always put it whenever she went with the 'wild idea' to go outside and play… she felt some guilt mixing her insides; while she and her grandfather figure never actually _talked _about her work under the cape, just basically danced around the subject, her conscience always begged her to be honest to the man who did so much to protect her.

However, the daughter of the Prodigal Archer knew that once she did so, her reign as 'Speedy' would be over.

The new girl smiled through her eyes and continued inspecting her room, seemingly quelled by her courtesy alone. Lian kept on her own endeavors, searching on the bottom of her bed for the mallets with her extra arrows with Irey just behind her; pending of her every move with her infectious smile on her lips. Her resolution was made the moment she made contact with the speedster who was, and would always remain her best friend; so it was only natural to reassure the ginger she would be doing whatever she asked.

The raven-haired teen contemplated how much one moment could change everything. She'd just been aiding the leaders of the Resistance rebels, serving as back-up and eyes for the General in charge to stop any infiltrator on their party. Speedy limited herself to offer only the capture, leaving the prey hurt; what the Rebels did with them was their own business (and usually they waited to interrogate them, so she wasn't there if they killed them or not). Sometimes it weightened in her conscience how she helped people who most certainly killed their enemies, certain her dad would understand, but still ashamed at her neglect. Her position had always been very contradictory to her own heart to say the least. Anyways, that was when she had spotted something moving towards them, shooting an arrow with almost perfect aim towards the shoulder of the prowler. Her eyesight was almost that of an eagle, reminiscent of her dad's brief training when she was small, and while the aim was a little off due to the darkness, it was going directly to the lower region of the girl's shoulder, almost the bicep.

Lian hadn't expected her target being summoned to the floor shortly after her arrow was loose.

Neither had she expected her being slammed roughly against the soil on her back, charged with a warm presence on her front to discover her long-lost friend with almost tears on her eyes.

The remaining Harper wasn't sure what to make of Iris' new friends. Life as Speedy had showed her how little you could trust in the Military, and the oldest had self-proclaimed how she was a Cadet-in Training of the Forces. The apparent knowledge in weapons also made her weary—if not for the Meta's apparent trust in the other brunette, Lian would have prefer to leave her with the General. However, since the moment they met, and while on their trek to her house, Milagro had remained cordial, and kept professional all along; maintaining quiet, and even shielding the boy from everything.

She blinked. Maybe he was her brother?

With the mallet out, and Irey peering from being draped over her strong shoulders, she opened the accessory, taking everything she could use from there while the wheels on her mind kept rolling.

Okay, so the teenager was pretty nice, and didn't seem to have a problem with trusting her as far as she could tell—which was a good thing—and her best friend trusted the brunette enough to follow the orders Milagro had given-out when they reached a particularly tough spot midsection of arriving. Lian could admit being impressed with the young woman's aptitudes, and the obvious attention she gave the kid, and them, before giving it to herself. Still, she had some reservations.

Like the guns.

Speedy avoided frowning.

Seemed like Irey hadn't.

Of course, she could give the teenager the benefit of the doubt. It was only fair.

"Hey, Lian, do you happen to have a working bathroom?" The amorous twin asked pressing her cheek against hers in affection, making her smile widely, and return the gesture.

"Of course! You guys can use them. That door over there leads to my bathroom, and Grandpa has his own on his bedroom." She offered whole heartily, thinking how much had it been since any of them had a decent bath with the way things were.

For once, she wasn't that reluctant of the commodities that came with Ollie resigning his duty for her. Not if it helped others.

"Oh God, seriously?! Thankyouthankyouthankyou_somuch!"_ Iris squealed in delight, tightening her hold on her shoulders, and she laughed in reverie at the love display.

How could she feel bad when it meant the world to Irey?

"Yeah—muchas gracias [1], really." Milagro told her sincerely with those rich tones hidden underneath her clothes, and Lian felt a little inclined to give her all her trust at her honest expressions. She understood some Spanish words from here and there, since her dad wasn't a stranger to using the language, nor was his Uncle Dick either. "You have _no idea _how much I've _dreamt _of getting rid of this smell!" The latina finished with a laugh, both her hands on her twin pigtails as she pulled them down to demonstrate her meaning.

Speedy smiled. The girl really wasn't bad. And she knew that Milagro could have questioned her privileged housing any given time, and be hostile to her for what it clearly meant.

Yet, she hadn't.

"It's nothing," She answered as Iris kept blabbing in speeds she'd long forgotten how much she loved her, and how sweaty, and disgusting it was to keep on running without a proper shower instead of some quick bath involving a damp rag over her body, "how about it Robbie?" she asked the detached infant that kept himself leaning on her door without so much as moving. When there wasn't any answer from him a dreaded thought entered her mind, _'Oh no,—did I messed-up his name?' _Lian wasn't sure what made the boy so reluctant to face her—it made her quite sad, since she hadn't even considered the thought of distrusting the small child, and she sure hadn't seen one either months after the beggining of the Empire; last she knew by Ollie, there were barely any, if at all.

The former Green Arrow had come-in one day, exhaustion pouring from his heavy shoulder and sat on the staircase for too much time, making her edgy on the reason behind it. Lian had she had remained on the top of the stairs, peering from her room at the sad sight he made, and when she had gathered enough courage to step-up to offer comfort, he had let out a heartbreaking shudder, whispering _'thank fuck,'_ and _'it's finally over, it's over'_ in miserable tones. Her peering curiosity on what made him like that had enhanced itself, and then he looked-up at the stairs, meeting her blues dead-on just like a target signal; gesturing for her to go sit next to him. Lian had done so with little apprehension, and then he'd hugged her tightly, whispering how she was safe 'cause she was twelve now and something about people no longer having kids anymore.

She'd been too young to fully grasp what his ramblings meant by then, but two years had gone-by, and she understood enough once she had begun her Speedy life.

Hence why the girl wanted him to trust her to keep him safe—to show him not all the capes were bad news; in a way, to keep her Father's Legacy standing. _'What if he's scared of me for that?' _Entered that new concept on her mind before she spotted Milagro moving next to Robbie with high spirits.

"I'll say you really don't have much choice Robbie, but believe me when I say this—showers _rock." _The olive-skinned girl spoke charmingly, and only _then, _did the male mustered a slight upraise of his head to see the teenager; while it made her feel good that at least the boy wasn't catatonic (and that she got his name right), the ache at not being deign a glance stung on her.

Maybe she could try a different approach?

"Which one would you like? I can take the other one while Lian finishes; and then Milagro, and her can bathe while we grab something to eat!" Iris continued where the other girl left off; enthusiastic about the arrangements and turning emeraldeyes at her in high hopes. "Tell me you have food somewhere Lian! _I'm sooo huuungryyyy~!"_ Iris pouted at her.

She smiled at the obvious effort from the two, even if the boy had yet to look at her in the face.

"Of course! We can even catch some hours of sleep before we absolutely need to go! It'd be good for you guys to sleep on a nice comfy bed for a change right?"

"OhmygodIloveyouIloveyou_IloveyouSOMUCH!_ YouaretheBestFriendEVER!" The redhead returned to hugging her, and she laughed out-loud at her declarations, not exactly catching half of it, but getting the point before the Meta turned back to the other two in the door. "So which one is it going to be Robbie? _Girl's _Bathroom, or _Boy's _Bathroom?!" Irey added with a conspirator leer, waggling her eyebrows in her mirth.

It was with a reluctant move that the male signaled with a low head, and lone finger towards the room outside hers.

"I'll take you there then—c'mon, it's this way." Lian added not losing her bright smile to convey her friendliness to the small figure without success; Robbie wasn't even trying to meet her face. Her domino mask lowered a little at the demeanor, whishing she could just hug him so he could feel better; maybe it was all he needed, but she knew she was the last person he'd ever let do that, so she remained in the speedster's warm hold instead, watching as the oldest took her queue, and pressed a gloved hand on his tiny shoulders, directing him towards the exit of the room.

"It's on the other room right? I'll take him there—oye [2], is there any chance we can wash our clothes, and dry them while we are at it? Digo [3]—"

No further explanation needed to be made, so she nodded, smiling anyway at the relief from the other adolescent in Kevlar.

"Sure, we can put the drier to work, and suit-up before we leave. Grandpa gets here until the morning, so no worries."

"Really? What's he doing?" Irey asked curiously as they watched a departing Milagro after said girl gave a thumbs-up in their direction, leaving with Robbie in tow.

It was just the two of them now.

Lian shrugged a little detached; feeling more at ease on the delicate subject with just her friend nearby.

"He went out to some "Business". But that usually means he wants to try and talk to—… you know…" She wasn't able to finish, but with the redhead's crestfallen face and consequent nod, it was clear the point was understood.

"Guess some things never change huh?" Iris answered with burrowed eyebrows smiling bitterly at the reality.

Sometimes it was easier to just avoid thinking of the Pretty Bird at all, so Lian could understand the bitterness underneath the answer.

"Yeah." Was her response, remaining on the older—but not really—girl's hold for a moment before frowning in thought at the speedster's direction. "Do you think I look scary?"

"Wha—? No! There's nothing wrong with the way you look!" The ginger spoke firmly, clearly defensive of her; it made her feel better with borrowing her dad's persona. "Why would you think that?"

Lian looked at her yellow boots, snatching her crimson domino to reveal the blue eyes of the prior Archer.

"Robbie won't speak to me—he won't even look at me." She told her friend, still avoiding those piercing greens glued on her. "Maybe it was because of that arrow at Milagro—? But I swear it was aimed at her shoulder! Nothing more!" The raven quickly reconsidered other causes for the boy's issues, looking at the Speedster in worry.

"I believe you!" The twin quickly calmed her before frowning on her own. "I don't think he's scared of you—he's very friendly, but we went through a War Zone out there to get you. You heard Milagro—they were burning a _pile…_ a nine-year old can only take so much for a day right?" Irey finished with a warm smile, gaining a tentative one of her own.

"Since when do you act the part of the oldest?" Lian asked with fondness that her friend recognized.

"Eh, you learn a thing or two along the way. Plus, it gives me points on Mom over Jai. Now, you did promised me a shower—and I'm _so hungry!"_

Lian laughed, getting up to search some clean clothes for her friend in the meantime, taking her role as the 'oldest' again.

She hoped Robbie was fine. It was a heavy burden to carry for such a young kid; so Lian would keep-on waiting for him to regain his spirits, after all, she had all the time in the World now that they were going to travel together.

* * *

><p>"Oye, do you want me to bring you some spare clothes? Speedy did say we could wash ours, and have them ready before we leave temprano [4]." The teen said to him; the clothe on her mouth lowered on her neck to give him her confident smile as he stood next to her in the frame of Ollie's bathroom.<p>

He contemplated if that was a smart move for a second, nodding mostly out of the necessity to have her leave. He knew it was the expected answer, for she nodded vigorously in return. Dick took his cue there, closing the door of the washroom to change, and pass her his dirty clothes comfortably by a sliver of the door as he stood behind it.

The tentative hand reaching for his things was anticipated—his naked hand was anything but soft, and had some minor scaring, but he didn't mind. Milagro could assume whatever she wanted from that story she, and Irey had concocted on their road here for all he cared—as long as she hadn't a look at his face, he could deal with it. No sooner than he handed her the smelly textiles, he shut the door completely, unwilling to take a risk with this girl, and just wanting to make it clear that he needed to be left alone. He was certain the girl was quick; he'd need to offer no more to convey his desire to be rid of her.

"Gracias [5], make sure you wash good behind your ears. We'll be in the kitchen, so take your time!" She called on the other side, and he kept his ears on alert until the sound of her fading footsteps was completely gone, and then some more.

A moment or two went by in silence, a treacherous shudder going through his spine before his knees started to buckle under his weight, resting his forearms against the door in exhaustion to avoid falling to his knees. His jaw remained clenched almost painfully so; forehead against the wood while attempting to contain his balance.

It was too much. He thought squeezing his eyes shut at the characteristic headache encompassing his temples; pounding his brain unmercifully.

Seeing her—seeing Lian—

No.

_Speedy._

Dick gritted his teeth some more in countenance of his disheveled emotions. Glaring at some undefined point of the door in repressed aggravation.

He knew his detached reactions to the youngest girl were unacceptable. It was one of those times he lived-up to his surname. Lian had been nothing but her sweet usual self to his persona, and Dick had certainly estimated meeting her in a lighter tone, just like he did with Iris.

It's just that he'd not expected running to her using the 'Speedy' uniform he saw Roy sport for _years_ before he changed it once he got too old for 'Speedy' as a name.

_'Where did she got it?' _The demanding thought kept pushing at him—commanding an answer.

It had been startling to see her father in her posture back on the field before she released the arrow from her crossbow with the same expression Roy used. An immediate retaliation his mind had taken, was placing Irey in Wally's spot accommodated in his Kid Flash garbs, nuzzling-up to Roy to aggravate the proud-cranky archer for some intrinsic delight—he'd had enough of it.

The carnie was sure that if he looked at her directly in her face again he would lose it. He would spill who he truly was in his desire to protect both his nieces and Milagro, putting everything at risk.

Loosing people was part of the drill—occupational hazard; it wasn't resent for him losing his friends, but for what the girls lost in retaliation.

It made him angry. Made him _furious._

So he just needed some minutes alone to resolve—to _think, _and then he'd be fine to look Lian in the eyes, and be friendly like he was with Irey, and Milagro, without feeling the stabs of fury that kept mocking him on his own failed responsibility.

He didn't finish the Mission. He left his Team unsupervised, and without new directions.

The circus prodigy got inside the bathroom, turning-on the water at its coldest to quell his livid temper at his own ineffectiveness, staring at the greenish tiles in contempt.

All the dirt was gathered in a puddle mixed with the water at his feet; his black locks plastered to his rigid contour. Slowly, virtually mechanical, he made a grab for the soap, shortly followed by the shampoo, while staring at the some undefined spot in the walls. The spray of the water against his back was uncomfortable at best, only bearable due to Bruce's education by some Monks way back. After he was done, he kept himself on the spot; quelling his immediate desire to rush to the girls' and order them to stay with Ollie by any out of the top ten excuses his mind configured. Maybe even use top twenty if he had to.

He glanced at the bottle he'd used to wash-up his hair, his eyebrows lowering at how well-provided Ollie was. Did he really need to take the girls along his path?

Unfortunately, leaving Iris and Milagro wasn't that easy, and even with Ollie's seemingly privileged spot in the Empire, he was ought to get some unwanted attention. That would definitely not end well with Dinah so close.

His mind backfired against him again; flashes of Green Arrow finding him while he reported to his family alongside Cassie, and an injured Black Canary (courtesy of Dick himself) on the Fortress playing on as the woman had led him to his ultimate breaths.

No. They were too close.

A small part of him hoped their travel would be a little longer than it was with them in such proximity to the terrain; all three needed some serious training for it.

Far as he went on his brief observations, Irey was the least prepared, followed by Lian, and then Milagro only by a little smidge.

Irey would need to remain well fed; he remembered how Wally had too much energy at her age that he wasn't capable of standing _still _for much—the Speed Force being problematic for him in more ways than one, though Wally had made it through; his niece wasn't with that disability, since she took care of the Speed Force's problems with her and his nephew at a young age. That, however, was what kept her from reaching her true potential—plus the whole episode that left her too scared to try using her full powers again.

Training speedsters was hard; Wally had once told him mentoring Bart wasn't anything like the twins when both regained their powers [6], and how much he'd appreciated his Uncle Barry for taking care of him.

Working-out on strength would be needed, he'd have to get a little creative on that one, but he would manage a method to get her gain some muscles. Carrying stuff was the easiest way, and would have to do for now, starting with equip or even himself.

Lian was another situation altogether. While his niece's shot was good, he could see it wasn't as practiced as Ollie's, and not even _close_ to Arrow-breath's impeccable bulls-eye.

His mind provided a remembrance that didn't seemed that far away, when Roy was chatting with him amused at her daughter's lack of patience with the pink bow he'd given her [7]. Apparently the young archer wanted to be good right away, and got testy after failing her shots, which earned a few laughs from him and his friend; teasing ensured by calling Pot to the older Archer. That had been a little before all hell broke loose, so that explained her good—but not faultless—aim, despite being Roy's daughter.

Ollie must have taught her after that, since he had not missed the replica posture of his redheaded best friend; so that just left her with some continuous practice needed on that regard. Her sight was truly amazing though; Lian had seen Milagro despite the dim surroundings, shooting a good arrow not seconds after seizing the intruder on her party, so there was that.

Dick could try to work her out by insisting she taught him. Propelling a teacher-student relationship was a good way to make the teacher learn something of the student in return. Good memories of Bruce playing teacher and student with him on the early days proved enough.

Milagro was a tricky one; her major disadvantage relied on her own confidence which made her good. Dick still had to see how well the girl could handle a gun, but while her intentions were good, he knew most of the time they would need to work on the dark, and she had proved that when being too close to the target, she let her guard down.

Her discomfort of working without light to aid her was noticeable, and her temper was another matter altogether if Dick saw it so quickly when in the road. However, she was crafty and quick to follow—her confidence was with reason—meaning he would have a hard time preparing her to assume the real risks that came with the terrain inconspicuously, just like he did with the water in the river.

For now, it had to be enough, he contemplated and soon, he distinguished the knock on the door with Lian calling him about clothing. The gypsy focused into a deep breath centering himself, and another one after the first before he was calm enough to go back to his appeasing plan.

"Hello?" He called to the other side after the silence stretched. "Is someone there?" Dick made another attempt, before grabbing his glasses plus a big towel to cover his entire frame, placing it above his soaked hair. He opened the door just a little to see to the other side, finding some folded clothes on the floor for him. He took them, inspecting the items once more in the privacy of the washroom with a lethargic smile.

_'Lian.' _Dick rang-out, identifying the simple orange t-shirt and white pajama bottoms handed to him of when she was a lot younger.

Drying himself with careful strokes and toilet paper for his back, he placed a good amount of those tissues on the base of his neck; he'd started dripping a little, mostly for the direct contact of the water on his exposed spine, and then, he placed the towel on top of it, making sure nothing but some wet locks were seen. The ever-permanent gauze kept him from staining the t-shirt, but he'd added some paper below it as a precaution, covering his eyes once anew now that he was sure he was presentable enough for his audience.

One last input of breath and a stretch; arms above his head whilst he cracked his neck in preparation.

_'Let the show go on'._

* * *

><p>"[…] and Mom said he couldn't come." He heard Iris talk at a normal speed, hair wet and loose, with a night camisole of her friend that went a little above her knees in a friendly red color, sitting in the kitchen's table with an equally clean Lian, who laughed in retaliation.<p>

The raven was wearing a pretty pink nightdress, hair plastered a little below her shoulder all shiny like her eyes, and Dick couldn't imagine forcing down the smile off his features. The house was so intact and quiet all around that one wouldn't think the city was Chaos; just two teens talking with some chocolate before resuming her slumber party.

"You done Robbie?" Milagro asked him stepping away from the pantry with some bread in her hand; her hair curled remarkably at the wet ends—all loose too and wavy over her back almost reaching her waist. The night clothes of Lian fit her better—not being as tall as Irey and barely above Lian—as she wore a camisole of sorts the color of the sun and smiled wickedly at him. "Te tomaste tu dulce tiempo [8], huh." She teased him and laughed as she took a seat next to Irey, forcing him to sit next to the archer.

He kept his broad smile at that. She really was sharp.

"Shower was nice." He spoke, clutching his hold on the towel above his shoulder just at the same time he climbed the chair next to the resident archer and turned friendly towards her; his gut constricted when her tense frame relaxed visibly in return. "Thanks. I'm sorry for being rude—it was hard out there."

At Lian's glimmering navies he moved his legs in enthusiasm, the material covering his whole feet that hanged above the floor.

"Don't worry about it—it was pretty scary." She said, offering him some of the bread the other brunette had placed on the center of the table. "You want some? It's delicious—you'll love it."

He nodded, taking the offered item and feigning curiosity as he studied it, turning his head to provide her his whole attention once anew.

"I'm Robbie, nice meeting ya."

"Lian Harper, also known as 'Speedy'." The girl proclaimed proudly, barely containing her curiosity at his glasses without asking with her wandering navies.

_'Ah, must have asked Irey and Milagro 'bout them.' _He nodded after the observation, happy to have her introduction.

"I like your name—and your eyes. They are blue, like when it gets dark. And your costume is awesome!" Dick added into the conversation excitedly, watching with immeasurable care how the red sprouted on his niece's cheeks.

"You are todo un [9] charmer Robbie~! If I didn't know any better I'd say you got a thing for Lian," Milagro chanted amused while Irey made some kissing noises in the back.

Dick blew them a raspberry; all the while attentive of the increasing red becoming a permanent color on Lian's face.

"Girls are just trouble." He said with a wise tone, crossing his arms above the towel. "'Sides I'm nine—I've got too much time left to have my fun ruined by some _girl."_

Milagro got up from her seat across the table, aiming to give him a nuggie if he wasn't in the wrong, so he squirmed out of the table, heading away; a cackle erupting from his lips when Irey's hold was easily sidestepped and he took a bite from the bread. He stopped, munching carefully at the forgotten flavor.

The girls had stopped in their fun too, all three naked different shades of eyes staring intently at what he guessed, was supposed to be his first taste of actual food.

"… this," he said after swallowing his mouthful in delight, "is my new favorite thing! I'm whelmed." He aimed his head at Lian's direction, bouncing on the heels of his feet at some considerations concocting on his brain. "Can we take some with us? It beats the smelly beans from Milagro." He added signaling at the girl like she was the culprit for their diet.

"¡Hey!" The olive-skin girl exclaimed offended with her accent making an appearance, while Iris grinned, agreeing in the background and getting into an argument with the prideful oldest of their bunch on the necessity of some "real food" for a change.

They would be okay now. All four would sleep on the girl's bedroom—the bed big enough for all four if he took the space where Lian and Milagro's feet were supposed to be. Night was peaceful and the feel of this commodity was well deserved for those three after what would come ahead. The night went-by all too fast for them, by five they've arranged everything that was utmost necessary, took their clothes and left. It was at Dick's _professionally_ disguised insistence that Lian left Ollie a note so he wouldn't worry (more like have a heart attack) someone might've done something to her, and though unfair for the blonde retired superhero, there wasn't much option to go by.

Dick wasn't foolish to believe that would stop the previous Blonde Billionaire from pursing his granddaughter, but with him next to her, Ollie had lost the battle before it had even begun.

* * *

><p><em>~- Late-May 2017, 17:18hrs. Ruins of New York City, New York (ten days later).<em>

Diana was frustrated.

Entering her inner sanctuary she was forced to make for herself with little to applaud from her researches proved no dissolution to her aggravated state.

Trails of her armor fell to the floor of her room; gold decorating the clean carpet with heavy weight that had the same spots dented from previous meetings over the past week and a half. The Amazonian Queen sweep a hand over her braided hair; some curls had fallen from their hold by her travel, a thing that made her frustrated at her long locks, wishing to yank at them for their constant annoyance briefly.

She procured a sigh, shaking her head tired of her inner musings and using the gift of Athena upon her molding that granted her wise qualities. By the gods was she tired of her constant failures.

Naked from her Greek Armory with only the simple folds underneath it covering her godly frame, she stepped into her awaiting bed, disentangling her long braid to her more characteristic curls and removing her tiara, placing it on its spot nearby her bed. Once above the soft materials adorning her mattress, she leveled her stare at the offending material next to her tiara on her bedside table. Wrinkles on the corners of her eyes grazed her beauty from Aphrodite by the numerous times she'd furrowed her brow; long nails grazing the edge of the picture before making a grab for it and dampening her spirits slightly.

_'Oh Donna,' _was the eternal chant within her confines, setting the picture closer to her impeccable sight in hopes of finding something new that she may had bypassed before with no victory.

Just like the last time she did that yesterday, and the day before that.

It had been a shock when Talia had given her the first hint pointing of her beloved sister's disappearance and consequent death. Hera knew she'd attempted to find her for _years _long before when Themyscira was still permitted to be called her Home without avail. She'd waited to quell her righteous fury at the unacceptable proof of Donna's prior suffering state that left her dead before heading that same night to Omicron-Metropolis in search for more direct answers. In there, she had intercepted Canary, watching the bleached blonde turn her heels at her sight before letting her know she had a Conference with Superman, asking if she wanted to join them. Diana had made it clear she would, and in their tense walk to the Kryptonian's Conference Room in the Daily Planet, her former comrade had muttered something to herself about Clark being in one of his moods.

While it hadn't been much of a surprise in a way, nor the comment intended for her hearing to catch, it left Diana wondering if confronting Clark was a good idea. He would respond negatively, reasserting Bruce's fault into it, and move-on unto his permanent attempts to seize Bruce and his party of criminals.

But he would also share what she gave him to Dinah; in another time Diana would receive the Canary's help with gratitude at her fellow sister, however, she'd seen the expense of the Meta's loyalty, so the real question remained:

Could she trust either of them with this? Superman had proven he hadn't been honest on his investigations either—the Man of Steel had become too ruthless, and in consequence, disorganized; lazy to investigate properly before heading full-on and leaving the mess to Dinah.

She'd said nothing and turned away from the blonde, leaving the City by flight. The Amazonian exile had decided to continue her search by her own, and only after she gathered something, would she turn to Superman.

It had been easier said than done, as the corruptible mortals often said.

She placed one hand above her eyes, the other one resting on her lap with the paper material in her hold.

_'By Hera, where else do I seek?' _

The afternoon air was running through her window; a very picturesque image of desolation by her defeated posture. In reality, Diana had no idea where to look; the search was too expansive—elements to reduce the numbers of places where Donna might've died out of her capacity to figure, or of any inclination pointing the way. How on the God's name had Talia gotten hand of this evidence?

Why was anyone related to Bruce always such a mystery—and for that matter, how could they make everything else like a search seem so effortless? Had the other woman not said she'd "stumbled" upon this Diana might've been less insulted now.

The raven beauty had also considered seeking out the interested Head of the League of Shadows for answers, but had come empty-handed. No doubt remained on her minds-eye that the brunette would not be found unless she shook the Earth apart. Diana wouldn't lie about falling into such temptation, by the power of Ares she burned to take her Vengeance; however, it would bear the same outcome of letting in Superman of her little sister's newly provided information.

A fleeting thought wanted to make itself present on her mind; the feeling she was forgetting something that Bruce's past lover told him that could aid her quest.

Old-Louisiana had been her first point to investigate, remembering the massive turmoil of Clark when Bruce and his kin destroyed a building in the savaged city. Her attempts to find anything, however, were futile, and the rage of Hades at being handed the Inferno consumed her at the collapsed building that had only scattered ashes around.

After that, she flew again to Omicron-Metropolis, avoiding any collision with Superman, and headed towards the fallen crumbs of the Military Building. The remnants were in the same fashion as the city she'd been prior—nothing out of place.

Diana had learned the work to reconstruct the building was taking longer since Superman hadn't been around to instruct the workers to clean after themselves and rebuild their lives. A part of her that Hippolyta always found proud swelling at her breast, knew there was something off for Clark avoiding his all too-perfect Citadel to erase the reminder of Bruce's attack. Thus why she had taken several trips in search for something—anything—however, no matter how much she prayed for the Gods, they failed to answer her petitions for Justice.

There was something amiss to connect between both events. Diana just needed to find it so her digging got her somewhere.

Then she would grant Hippolyta one of her greatest wishes, and let her sister rest in peace on Themyscira along the rest of her sisters and continue her Exile with one regret less on her list.

* * *

><p><em>~- Still Late-May 23:15hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum (four days later).<em>

"Any reports on the Case, Black Bat?" Tim asked over the Holomap showing the Batwing's trajectory above Arizona. The cave hadn't been in control for two-straight days now—alarms sporadically appearing on his screen even after he turned them off from time to time—but he tried to remained unaffected, ignoring the crumbling pieces of small rocks falling on him; the male was left in charge of the communications for Cassandra now, whilst Jason was in the Armory Room providing Alfred protection from the compromised Cave, and Damian was inside the Jet with the woman. Circumstances aside, it did made the third Robin feel for the prior Batgirl, having to take care of the brat whilst she took the weight of their recon Mission to see what had a big rebellion Group waging a losing war against the Military.

They've gotten a high-alert of the increasing massacres on the remaining masses back in Old-California hours ago; it left them anxious, considering the State was one of the few that was still keeping some strays and Refugees holding their group quite effectively on their own without needing their help like some others. They've also known Queen was mostly in charge of keeping everything civil to an extent; the Archer, while not _accurately _against them, but neither particularly helpful either, had a good grip on his designated Home Base despite the raging numbers out of Leviathan's complete control, which often made it into a problem with Superman. Tim knew this because he had taken precautions on following the blonde's movements for their convenience; something only he had a clear grasp to do with Bruce constantly preoccupied on his own schedule, and Cass working on it.

Thus was another difference between him and Damian.

_"Not so far."_ His sister responded, and Tim nodded; they've yet to reach California grounds—it was positive news that it hadn't escalated to the other State. On his right, a rather heavy spike that was once part of their cavernous ceiling fell, and he grunted from barely sidestepping out of its way.

It was getting too dangerous.

_"Are you al—?" _Cassandra started with worry lacing her voice, catching the direction of his thoughts on their condition back in their Home Base.

_"Of course not imbecile—we're still kilometers away from our destination." _The condescending voice of the Demon Teen made its own input, rudely interrupting the female Bat, and Tim frowned in contempt.

He glared with his icy stare at the holograms as he heard Cassandra made a shush noise and Damian saying something about not being a child to be patronized by someone inferior to him. At that, the raven inside the cave hardened his stare; how could Bruce not see how utterly inconsiderate Damian was? Cass had made it clear she knew what she was doing, always standing so nearby the Batman for him to ignore how bluntly insulting his son was to his daughter.

"Wasn't asking for your opinion, Night-Robin. **Black Bat** was the one assigned to the Operation while **we **deal here." He spoke cold with a taste of derisiveness, reminding the other one that his place on their Jet was only at Black Bat's petition, and of being excluded from dealing with their Mother's issues despite his grandeur acts. At that, Tim doubled his glare. He was sure the only reason behind Cassandra's strange request of Damian going with her was to avoid more arguments between the three males as their situation crumbled out of their control in Gotham.

Figured Damian would think so highly of himself to think Cass needed his help at all.

Obviously his retort was everything but well received by the curses on Arabic from the teen before Black Bat took control of the communications again. It was fair, Tim knew, since she was already doing this to avoid more clashes and focus on their City.

_"We'll arrive soon. If you need us, call."_ Cass' silent voice provided with her same worry filtrating her soprano, and nodding by reflex alone, he sent her some more scans of the place she was supposed to check while Damian remained inside the Jet, in case the need for their traps came in need. Alfred had been doing poorly lately, his demeanor opaque from Dick's disappearance the next day of his brother's return, and Tim could admit with much guilt that their constant disagreements didn't made it easier on the elder Butler; this was a good way to keep peace under the hostile position, and have Alfred some well deserved "rest" while Damian attempted to take care of the Batwing's defenses as their sister handled the rest.

Bruce, on the other hand, had been left dealing with some security breaches on the Asylum that only he kept the codes of alongside Stephanie, both of them taking the brunt of the heat.

The two young adults had been handling the crazy loons attempts to break into the Island for a couple of days now when the initial alarm came, with Red Robin (inside the Asylum) and Batgirl (outside in the City) managing the situation, but it had proved futile given the male had been without Batman's cryptograms to fully close the breach some of the Heads of Gotham made out of nowhere.

It had summed-up to Batman appearing the second day from another one of his Solo trips that sometimes Red Robin doubted even Black Bat was informed of, and ordering the new accommodations since early in the morning. Batman would take care of the Asylum and civilians, while the other four battled outside in the City grounds, with only Red Hood and Alfred standing put on their Base at the danger of it being compromised from Ivy's plants that were causing the small Earthquakes in their efforts to torn apart the Gates of the Asylum.

The hit was unlike any other on Gotham.

Red Robin and Batgirl had been attempting to take care of Ivy's persistent tendrils, when Black Bat leap out of nowhere (she had been confronting Croc that pummeled at the Gates with Ivy's support), and seized a potentially dangerous vine from trapping his healing leg to deliver the news from California. The frequency was shared by all bats, with the exception of Red Hood, who got hold of the information via Alfred in said Armory Room, and Night-Robin barked how it paled in comparison with their current Battle on their own Womb; the teenager had been grunting all-along, mostly for unsuccessfully chasing Harley, who'd been leaving explosives nearby the bridge and Island, and Red Robin kept wondering why was this happening now when never before the Inmates had demonstrated this raw desire to break into their old House.

Odd as it was to see the Heads working together, they truly had the potential to become victorious and erase them from their own City; this frightening fact was only subdued by knowing the Gotham Crime Lords could never work together for long periods before they started turning against each other; forgetting all about them in their vicious attempts to over-power themselves. However, it was a fact that they were now facing, and without more people to call back-up, and Cassandra's silent insistence to also take care of California refugees, Tim feared the dreaded thought of losing the battle.

Batman and his crew could only hold the Inmates for so long if they continued working at a par. Batgirl had even suggested involving Red Hood outside once Black Bat and Night-Robin had gone-off; a proposition lost when said crimson vigilante sneered they had provided the tools for their own destruction, which Alfred quickly quelled by stating Jason was better with him to help both of them on their Base, if the situation went out of their control. Batman had quickly left the Asylum after security measures dictated the frightened Gothamites which rooms to take in the High Security Wing, and left to find Harvey's mess that was threatening Batgirl as she stood-by momentarily alone, on the catastrophe outside.

A worried frown encompassed his features, having removed the cowl out of frustration, trying to figure out the Catalyst of their War.

Catwoman had promised recon, but her station got shut six hours ago. And word of the news he'd kept trailing on California suggested Wonder Woman nearby Cassandra's aimed battle location.

For the first time in a long while, Tim wasn't sure what their next move was supposed to be.

* * *

><p>[1] "—thank you very much,"<p>

[2] "—hey,"

[3] "I mean—"

[4] "[…] early."

[5] "Thanks,"

[6] Not sure what issue. We see Wally explaining that—not to Dick, but in here he does that, since he's his best buddy. Rain check on issue.

[7] Actual issue where you see Lian pouting that she couldn't get her Pink Bow to work like Roy did, with Roy instructing her. Not sure if he chatted that with Dick—nor remember the issue, so rain check—but in here he does. So there.

[8] "You took your sweet time, huh."

[9] "[…] a total/complete [..]". Literally is "all a" or "all of", but it can also be as explained in the translation for the context.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__Well, it's pretty self-explanatory what's about to happen. Until next chapter, and thanks for all the people that continue reading. Can't wait to have the next Installment ready—and aiming to see some pretty amazing Fireworks tomorrow and day after it~. Timeline already updated with this one too. Oh, also been fixing some grammatical errors here and there sporadically on some chapters._


	16. Mending the Chessmen

_**Author's Notes: **__Remember that thing about the previous chapter being a 'breather'? Well, if not now you do, so you're forewarned.  
><em>_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Angst, __Foul language, descriptive scenes of Violence and Gore, War-atmosphere, Inmates disturbing thoughts, and mentions of Death._

__**EDITED: Tuesday September 25th, 2012 - Spelling.**

_Friday September 21__ST__, 2012 Words: 13,955_

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XVI.- Mending the Chessmen.  
>or<br>The Never-ending Charge of Robin._

_~- 23:37hrs. Napa, Old-California. _

"Black Bat to Red Robin, we've arrived at our destination. Starting Mission now, keep posted of Home's status by personal computers." Cassandra spoke through the microphones of the Jet, removing her belt from the pilot's place to stand-up straight, making sure everything was in place.

"_Red Robin here, will do. Good luck Black Bat. Out." _Tim's voice reverberated on the cabin.

"Good luck, out." Her soprano provided and she turned off the micro and stepped outside, pausing without looking back in the door frame to exit the Batwing.

"The distress call is some meters from here, be pending if we need to return." Cassandra placed-out to the aggravated teen who no doubt was giving her another glare at her dismissal, leaving immediately afterwards to avoid hearing the young man belittle her more. She wasted no time to grab the awaiting cable that lowered her to the soil, then, once she was in ground terrain, she made her leave as fast as she could, sure the Bat inside the Jet was unable to pinpoint her and turning-off her first tracer momentarily; the subdermal one wasn't about to be activated if the primary one wasn't damaged, so she wasn't worried they might see her steps fully; it wouldn't be the first time she'd done it to avoid getting caught on special jobs she did with her father all the time.

The Wayne woman was fully aware of the teen's actions once she took her time on this task, counting on Damian involving himself in another riot they passed back in Lafayette eventually.

She just hoped it would give them enough time before he made-up his mind and went solo.

* * *

><p><em>~- 00:39hrs. Acalanes High School, Lafayette, Old-California. <em>

This was a bad idea. A very, _very _bad idea.

Another explosion went-by accompanied by several yelling from the Military Forces of the "supposedly" abandoned High School.

Irey and her colleagues knew otherwise.

She placed her hands over her eardrums again, squeezing her eyes shut at the dizziness that came-by from being over-exposed in such a near vicinity of one well-aimed grenade. Everything had seemed so simple hours back, she thought attempting to dissolve the fright that came from being close to be found on their spot on a Concierge's closet; dust-filled rags the only things covering her and Lian from immediate danger. Her best friend was in a similar position of her own, but Iris had the advantage of being a Meta over her friend, so the pain in their eardrums was already getting contained by her metabolism, but wasn't fairing that well for the awaiting Archer.

Milagro had yet to return so they could escape the place. They had been _way _over their heads to think they could permeate such a controlled Facility that was kept underground. And they've only been there for a little over _20 minutes! _

'_Why is it always underground?' _Her fleeting thoughts rambled again, the discomfort of her buzzing ears now under control, and attempting—successfully—to give Lian a glance that had the other one nodding as she contained a grimace. So far, she'd counted no less than fifteen grenades thrown on the floor; they were slowly closing on them—the soldier's probably not that many classrooms away while they continued to blow the place to pieces on the upstairs department until they got a hold of the curious trio.

'Smoke 'em out' and everything.

Once more, the redhead wondered how they could've been so green to think entering an Empire's Hidden Facility would be quick, without much trouble on their way. Okay, so entering hadn't been that hard; the "training" of the past couple of weeks permanent on her head as recollections of her running around constantly with Robbie wanting some piggyback rides actually helped her regain some endurance once she got past the annoyance of being treated like a horse. Lian had also admitted getting considerably better on her aim when in their breaks, she kept showing Robbie and the others what she could do at the boy's insistence for a 'demonstration'. That quickly transformed in the boy stealing Speedy's crossbow to give it a try by his own, which resulted in Milagro saying it could be helpful to have the kid learn some self-defense on top of it. Without actually realizing it, all four of them improved while they travelled north all the way to Lafayette, where Robbie's sources indicated the Base was located.

Well, far as Irey was concerned, the kid had reliable sources—some shooting in the vicinity, and the speedster was almost tempted to take her friend and make a run for it—and she would never doubt them _however small a measure,_ again. It would have been _a lot _more helpful knowing the school was swimming with Enemies everywhere though.

And Robbie had wanted to go with them.

Iris snorted, gaining the attention of Lian who gave her a small slap on her shoulder and (probably) pressed a finger on her gas mask.

Oh—! Yeah—silence.

She nodded, offering a sheepish grin circumstances aside, and went back to dwell on where the oldest teenager had went. It was seriously out of their proportion.

The trio had waited until it got dark to access the grounds at the boy's insistence, making them promise him that if anything went out of hand they would return once they had a fleeing chance (okay, no argument about that—problem here was that said 'fleeing chance' wasn't coming-by quick enough) and had left him in the outskirts of Lafayette, in a secure spot down some Book Store completely abandoned. Robbie had gotten behind a very large bookcase, and Iris had remained astounded at how small he was and how well he took advantage of his size. Then, they were off, scouting the area with some pointers from Milagro in their two-week travel or so, so that they wouldn't make _much _unnecessary noise while still keeping each other in sight.

What had been a problem—and in here Irey wasn't particularly proud to admit it—was that the sign languages were too many, and between playing horse for Robbie and being exhausted in either the backseat or the co-pilot's, she hadn't memorized them by heart. Lian hadn't either, but the girl was as worked-up as Iris herself, and the oldest, whilst not taking a breath herself from all the driving (Milagro had vowed only after a particularly testy day she would teach both her, and Lian to drive) and teaching some moves to Robbie, and then to her and Lian, sometimes the lessons were put on-hold in order to rest.

The time hadn't been on their side, and then, to top it all off, the girls were pretty sure Robbie was falling ill. Sometimes he would take too much time to relieve himself on the road, or wake-up too early once they've gotten into the city's boundaries to find him saying he'd gone to the bathroom; just likewise, he would be the first one to fall asleep as a rock at every chance he could.

All three young women had decided to speed-up their pace and get the gig done-with so they could take care of Robbie properly without said weight as a constant thing on their shoulders.

Now, after the initial hand-gestures fiasco, Speedy had taken it upon herself to develop _easier _movements that basically any five-year old with a brain-cell could decipher; they knew Milagro wasn't content, but the other girl quickly adapted herself to their new accommodations, and they were On. Suspiciously so, they hadn't encountered any cameras on the outside, which made sense in a sorta twisted way if the Empire was hiding a more dangerous compound underneath, so they had finally found an opening on the Food Court (Iris remember her triumphant grin over Milagro's frown when she'd suggested to scout for food while they were at it to find such reward instead) that led to the tunnels; the gap was big enough for their frames—someone larger would definitely need to blow-up the fallen concrete-like-hole to get in or out, so the girls had that advantage at hand in the case a fast escape was needed.

Alright, so they hadn't been _that _wrong about that one; still, it had proven to be a hard task to get out of the floors, since apparently the Soldiers had _other _route to get upstairs, that, while far away from their own escape route, it still wasn't enough by the looks of it.

None of the girls had managed to make it past some creepy-steel-like fourth doors underneath—which were also closed!—on their inspection; bullets and sirens ringing above their heads (how, none of them had any idea—cameras were nowhere in sight), and after some words in Spanish that Irey could swear were quite picturesque, Milagro signaled their leave that she and Speedy were fast to compel. Neither of the teenagers had been happy to, but Speedy's fast retreat got the impulsive speedster thinking that, if her best friend, who had been in Rebels groups was following the command, she, without the practice since her Impulse days, wasn't about to argue the point the Military Girl had made.

Running through the hallways hadn't been smooth, with Milagro still muttering in Spanish (maybe, Iris could guess so) suddenly making a different turn, to then order them to wait for her in their newly appointed place when she went to seek a newly appointed nearest route to make a run for it. The hallways were pitch black, something that left Iris under Speedy's instructions once she remembered the fourteen-year old had the lenses of her mask; however, the "same" could be said for the soldiers attempting to find the intruders to murder them in their wait.

Which had also "conveniently" blocked the school's exit towards the city. _'Okay, that was a bit too obvious anyways. What were we thinking with that one?'_

Getting outside had become a stronger option once they heard the men leaving grenades to leak them-out of their hiding when everything else seemed futile.

She was on the verge of vibrating herself through her spot when Speedy's steady hold grazed her skin, then, at the feel of another hand touching her remaining shoulder, she heard Milagro's barely audible whisper ceasing her worries. _'Man, she's good—I didn't even noticed when she opened the door.'_

"_I found a way out, let's go."_

* * *

><p><em>~- 00:55hrs. Acalanes High School Boundaries, Lafayette, Old-California. <em>

They had been lucky.

'_This time, that is,'_ Speedy thought once all three of them were secure outside of the School grounds, crouched behind some cars as they moved their way-out and headed straight to the Bookstore where they left Robbie. From where they currently stood, the pellets were inaudible, and because they got away by the oldest finding miraculously a crumbled space on a wall in the Theater room, the forces probably thought the people intruding their base were still there. That, at least, gave the teenage superhero some relaxing breaths under her gas mask.

However, they were seriously underestimating the enemies—and their capacities, she admitted with her pride swollen by the blow. If they were going to get inside—and they really _needed_ _to_—more practice was in charge.

Hopefully they didn't had any Soldier trailing them as they kept their pace; constant and ready to rely on her best friend's superpowers like they've planned if they were affronted. Milagro kept the lead, Iris behind the teen, while she took cover at the back. The speedster was at disadvantage in here for her lack of sight, the latina not that far away, but more at ease in distinguishing forms to provide them the moving pace as they went from taking cover by trashcans or alleys.

Once they kept travelling to the Bookstore, though, Lian's navy eyes widened behind the white lenses of her Domino.

Chaos.

People were screaming their heads-off, running without an ounce of reason against some pacificators that Leviathan had placed to regain control on the deranged area. Fire was another common sight while she and her companions took-in the scenery with foreboding sense; grown men and women alike resorting to throw grenades, pellets—even rocks, burnt paper bags, or anything they got into their hands really, while others battled for armory as they tried to rip-it from the hands of the enemy—however it was. Some bodies were sprayed on the ground, being stepped-on with their insides out, and Lian had never felt so sick.

She'd been on raids as a look-out, but they were mostly contained by the time she arrived.

A few meters-by, some woman ran engulfed in flames, yelling vengeance and grabbing a soldier that took-it upon himself to shot her arm off without the woman deterring her advances asides from a gut-wrecking cry, engulfing the screaming soldier in her remaining grasp—madness making her sink her teeth on the flesh visible of his face, and setting him aflame alongside her.

One shudder took hold of her entire frame, calmed-by the strong hold of the vibrating speedster who met her straight with those green eyes she'd missed for too long.

Irey was right, they were now truly involved with the cruelties the World often offered, and all three of them had better just accept it.

Besides, she considered with a dreadful apprehension, if this thing kept escalating, many other civilians who took no part on this crazy riot would get hurt.

And Robbie was part of them.

Without the need to convey her trail of thoughts, she met the stare of her two teenage friends, knowing with their consequent nods they've all been thinking the same. It was by then, that the various places consumed by flames helped them out in their own twisted way, to at least have the sight on their side.

Plan was simple: get as much civilians out of the crossfire and into safety, hoping it would dissolve itself with time—or casualties of the Empire so the city could go back to its more usual-composed state, then, go back to Robbie and think of another way to get inside the hidden Basement of the School.

* * *

><p><em>~- 01:07hrs. Acalanes High School, Lafayette, Old-California. <em>

He watched without losing his tempo as the three girls took their leave, perched on top of the School Building and ready to pounce if the need to protect them from further annihilation came-by, only loosening a fraction of tension on his muscles once they finally made it into the streets—enough to avoid the enemies that were searching for them where he stood.

A frown marred his face, now "free" to use a black mask Lian gave him, and Milagro both; the red hoodie she'd also supplied covering his neck injuries enough, a perfect replacement for when he felt asphyxiated by the scarf and jacket he rarely used lately.

They weren't ready. Almost got killed.

Dick had known they wouldn't make it through on their first visit; the aerialist wasn't a rookie to assume they would just get-in, get the gig done, and get-out like the girls thought they would. He'd taken precautions for them, full-aware his expertise would be necessary and providing the "easy" scenario as a warm-up prelude of their future Jobs so they could get the hang of it. Clenching his jaw he mused how that hadn't been enough; his cover was at risk, what with all that unintentional training they had an idea was going-on, but dammit, they knew _nothing_ once they've gotten-in.

'_Fine,…'_ he reconsidered his wording on his thoughts sullenly; they knew nothing when _trying _to get-in.

He massaged his temples—the new mask covering the bridge of his nose rather crudely (it was simply amazing how, even with all his accommodations, Ollie's equipment (even the one he'd stolen) wasn't as proficient or practical as Bruce's; it swelled his proud heart) while his mind repeated their missteps on their whole way-in.

It was a _disaster._

Some hours ago, just before they completely left him secure on the Book Store, he'd been sure he'd left everything ready for them to get a _decent_ look-out on the terrain; previous visits on the last couple of days spent on removing cameras, creating _three_ alternative exits only them could think of inadvertently—leaving trails so they knew where to go, and even creating blind-spots from guards to cover, hadn't simply been enough. Even with all that, he'd still waited for them to be out of sight, and made a run (with flips and shit) towards the School grounds, prepping whatever fluke could be left, that might've left them unattended, finally waiting them on his spot; a watchful consistent eye every single step they took once they got within sight meters from the Main Entrance.

They've gone wrong from that step forward. Hell, Dick had even physically _intervened _on more than one occasion as he swept some Soldiers that were about to place some bullets through Milagro's helmet, _and _Lian's spine; he'd been precautious and got rid of all the light they had on the floors above and some vital places beneath by borrowing the spears of Ollie's electric-arrows and placing them with the bulbs beforehand, providing the pitch-dark blackness he'd grown to use to cover his guard—and, incidentally, _theirs._ But, once more, none of the girls noticed anything going-on.

The three had taken no precautions, done no inspection, and hoped to get everything done just as easily.

For crying-out loud, might as well have carried a neon-sign saying "We're here!" with them!

He grunted, not the least satisfied by this lack of common sense. Figures none would know _exactly _what to do though, he mustered a little more sober, satisfied he at least had the foreboding sense to create a perfectly good back-up plan in the most probable case this Scenario was the one playing before his scrutinizing eye.

One far-away look at the madness their trail back to their hiding spot would present them, he leveled his naked eyes, glaring in though.

Now he just hoped they would at least pass their Second Exam.

"Ready?" Cass' voice finally allowed herself to put-out, and Dick kept his eye fixated on the path of those faded figures in somber consideration.

"Yeah, as I'll be ever be."

* * *

><p><em>~- 01:23hrs. Streets of Lafayette, Old-California. <em>

"Quick—I'll cover you!" Milagro shouted over the pellets breaking the air as she took a discarded Anderson MFG. AM-15 she'd found with a little less than the whole ammo on, quickly getting on her knee over a crumbled wall and shooting some troopers; her shots were good, though the forces being-well protected, she chose to aim at their uncovered spots—the juncture between their shoulder-blades and torsos to cease their attacks at the least, or the one on their knees so they would fall-off.

"Got it!" Speedy shouted emerging from her spot nearby and making a run for an injured man that kept covering in a corner, wailing in between gasps of breath. The people Milagro couldn't protect the superhero teen from, was being handled by Iris, who kept running in dashes and removing guns from the Military, throwing them in Milagro's way or even the Rebellion to at least give pedestrians a chance to flee. The raven-haired Archer got to the man, a heads-up from the latina unnecessary when said raven shot an arrow at an approaching soldier straight in his forearm. That seemed to be enough to wake-up the screeching man, who got up with Lian's back-up and away from the turmoil.

"Good shot!" She commented, feeling the need to congratulate the younger girl for her attention so she kept it. Her mind kept repeating this was no drill—this was real, and it was happening before their very eyes, and it was horrible, so she needed to step-up her game and be useful.

However, they've been at it for quite some time now and still weren't within a nearby-end to this Apocalypse. She got worried, her mind betraying her when a man who'd Irey was taking off (injured and from the Rebels by the looks of it) pointed at her and searched mindlessly through his clothes before tossing her a grenade.

'_Maldición. (_1)_' _The thought crossed her brain and she froze for a second, her brown eyes widening as the object approached her in slow-motion.

"Milagro—duck!" Irey's yell woke her, entranced by gluing her chestnut stare at the one in greens hidden behind her goggles she'd given the speedster and the lines of terror filling them. Speedy's widening lenses behind her crimson mask finished the trick, and she jumped out of the way, falling into a ball and running immediately afterwards to hear the collision that sent her, Irey and the man who'd caused the attack towards some broken debris meters away; the force of the explosion didn't affect her ears that much—she had protection from her gear, but the same couldn't be said for Iris, who briefly shook her head in order to be rid of the drumming in her ears.

Speedy had ran by them, not losing her haste to get them up, and off the centre of the 'Guerrilla' where they had become vulnerable. Milagro then took hold of the offensive man who yelled, proceeding then to spit at her uniform; glaring at his rude behavior, she heaved him from Iris' hold who then took her leave speeding-off, and taking an immediate satisfaction in hauling-up his injured shoulder with more force than what was necessary and plunging him into the confines of a broken building so he could take his leave.

The Archer had accompanied her all the way, covering their way by throwing her own set of missiles off, but as the Reyes girl took-in the appearance of the youngest girl's quiver she lowered her eyebrows in consideration; there weren't that many left, and then what? It's not like they thought they would use more than the fair share the raven had brought. Still, this was not good.

"I'll take right, you go left down on Second, we'll meet you in the corner where that panoramic sign is!" Speedy shouted, and she nodded, giving the younger girl a thumbs-up as she ran straight where Iris had left some gathered weapons for her use.

"Be careful!"

"Will do—but do the same too!" And the brunette nodded, thankful of having her helmet and whole gear set-up; her pigtails would probably be problematic in this setting, she thought randomly, adjusting as many of those guns in her straps over her chest, legs, shoulders and everywhere she could before making a run for the stated point.

All three of them were way over their heads—just like before; and it did nothing for them when she had attempted to go by the Resistance's men, only getting shots in retaliation. It was after avoiding it with Iris' help, and explaining their best option for a retreat, that both girls got shut-up when the big man leading the Resistance's Group yelled-out his refusal.

One streak of color was all her warning when something sharp and pointy incrusted on her chest—the Kevlar vest had done its job, so she was just pushed to the floor by the force of the impact, however, it did hurt like_ hell, _and it also cut the strap holding her weapons on her back, and front. Glaring, she crouched and rolled-away, favoring her side to avoid impaling herself with the offending blade, grimacing at having left her strapped-filled weapons on her spot that was compromised and taking refuge behind a pile of sorts (not the human kind gracias a Dios (2)).

Whatever the hell had happened? She wondered rapidly and steadied her breath, taking one smaller Beretta 92FS from her midsection and unlocking it; she had to get to the regrouping point, no matter what. Following the trail of her periphery vision, Milagro focused on the metallic-kinda thing that had struck her, removing the piercing object from her vest with a wince and inspecting it with a confused stare.

She'd seen this kind of thingy before—by Jaime, what did he called them—?

Her eyes popped open at the sudden hit of clarity; she wasn't exactly sure how, but she was glad nonetheless.

Batman had arrived.

* * *

><p><em>~- 01:29hrs. Gotham U., Gotham City. <em>

"Ready for the drop!" Dick yelled in the direction of the cockpit, standing one step behind the opening Gate on the stomach of the Batwing's entrance, waiting for his sister to open the gates.

"_Two minutes to arrive." _Cassandra's voice came from the speaker panels, and the carnie warmed his muscles into relaxation, getting ready to plunge into oblivion.

"Thanks, Cass! We've got one hour—fly over Gotham U.'s Flagpole east and I'll grapple my way into the Batwing like we said!" He called to the woman, taking-in the sight of their City with naked eyes now that the young woman had opened the crates. "Good luck, Cass!"

"_Good luck, Dick." _Black Bat answered and he nodded, immediately diving into a freefall without a care in the world, eyes closed to avoid the gusts of air drying his eyeballs and relying on feeling alone; he'd done this all his life, falling and flying was where he felt at home. It took the change in the air to raise his right arm and fire the hook of his grapple-gun, impaling the cord into a nearby-Gargoyle he knew would be there, and using his momentum, he flipped his way into the corresponding stone Guardian, using his hands once he removed the grapple mid-turn, to get on the top of the unmovable object; balanced perfectly at its head with his small figure.

'Gotham-West Bank' had been conserved well like most of the infrastructure of their City, Dick appraised, observing at the highest point of one of the most sought-out places the bad guys attempted to break into back in the days. That was, of course, without taking into consideration the 'Modern Art' revolving around the Building; just windows below him stood a yellow-ish banner that had seen better days with some crazy art redeeming intruders would be shot or eaten upon sight. The boy frowned in discontent; it was another thing hard to get used-to, since he hadn't the slightest of doubts the warning met the implications.

Focusing on where to go next, he squinted his eyes at the horizon; the black skies welcoming him Home as he distinguished a green color far east, past his rendezvous point at Gotham U. into the Coventry District.

'_Eddie,' _his mind concluded once it merged the characteristic color of The Riddler whom was in charge of said District. Just like that, the aerialist jumped from the Statue, making his way between skyscrapers, with his grapple and grace into Nigma's terrain. He only needed to find a Head of Gotham to make his way into the awaiting Committee, and Cassandra had placed Eddie as the safest bet that in their trajectory towards Arkham and wouldn't beg attention; Dick was seriously proud of her. The Wayne girl wasn't much of a strategist like most of them, but she was smart, and he felt relieved his sister had grown so much.

Once he was near enough, he stepped into the well-know alleys—his brain recollecting every street and construction that covered the landscape perfectly. Right now, he was in search for information; it wasn't possible to assume all lackeys had went with their Bosses to smash heads against his family to "open" the Asylum from what he'd gathered—nor that all Heads of Gotham were in the same setting—so that meant anybody that was under The Riddler's charge would be around the blocks. Like Bruce often said since his Robin days _"Gotham's Criminals are a cowardly superstitious lot,"(_3) so Dick would listen to Bruce like he habitually did and wait for some goon to let him know what he wanted.

That, of course, didn't meant he would wait idly for them to come to him—though sometimes that worked too—so he swept around, glancing at several question marks painted on almost every wall in sight, ducking out-of-view when something caught his ear at his left, and directing himself to the location where the voices got bolder.

"Yo! Get your ass over here fast!" Dick was rewarded with the sight of one enthusiastic well-fed (the hell—?) thug wearing Eddie's colors on the street below his place on a window's brim nearby the two running-men.

"Slow down man—we've been running non-stop since the Factory at Poe's Street!" The otherwise younger companion wheezed-out, stopping and taking some ragged breaths with difficulty as he rested his weight with hands above his knees.

"You think the Boss is gonna like that? He'll throw you into some of his crazy traps for it! Dumb son of a bitch like yourself won't stand a chance!"

"_No—!_ Wait—I'll step up! Chill man, don't wanna face that!"

"Then get movin'! If we're the last ones to get there I'll tell The Riddler myself!" With that admonishment, the two regained their pace once more, though the younger piece of meat still heaved and kept his pace behind the first one. For the gypsy there wasn't anything providing those levels of exhaustion; while his physical condition wasn't the same as before, it was at its peak if one didn't count that constant _yank _he'd been feeling ever since they flew away from California; even still, the acrobat knew how to work around it, catching into a banister and climbing into higher grounds some steps ahead of them—they were too slow.

"Ya know why the Heads started this shit?"

And there you go—once again, Bruce was right, he thought with a smirk covering the grimace at the puncture that was fast becoming annoying.

"Dunno, but I wish they didn't—Penguin's people always try to do some funny shit."

"I hear ya man, and Joker's clowns are some crazy motherfuckers—makes sense there's more of them to keep Batman off-bay from getting to the Boss and the Heads!"

A laugh shared by the couple, and Dick cocked him head to the side as he waited for them to catch-up above them. Sometimes, he couldn't stop the feeling that compared the criminals to noisy-ladies on the High Society. While it helped a whole lot, and the boy was used to being patient on the game, he did wished they hurried their butts and stopped their chatter so they could run faster to their destination and Dick could make his own way.

That, or they could speed their chat and get to the good part; he actually preferred that one, with the amount of time they were taking, it'd be hours before they got there.

"Batman won't know what hit him! Boss is probably the brains for this—shoulda done it ages ago!" The thug spurted arrogantly, definitely feeling right on his decision to follow Nigma around while they took another break, and Dick rolled his eyes, positioning himself into a crouch on top of a clothes line of an apartment complex.

"Yeah—not like Two Face or Black Mask can think of this!" The companion heaved, gasping for air rather sadly. "Say, you don't think _Croc's _gonna be there—that thing's supposed to be at Arkham."

"He'd better be man—there's a reason no people work under that sick bastard."

"Shut your hole, stupid! He might hear ya!"

"Don't be a wuss—ain't no way Croc is near. Now get moving, the Assemble Factory isn't gettin' to us!"

'_Finally,' _The circus prodigy thought triumphant, jumping into another apartment complex straight ahead, opening the window where he landed and sprinting his way crossing the floor to get to another window and repeat his way with a direct path that wouldn't be sidestepping the building for a faster-more direct approach. He knew where the Car's Assemble Factory was—the carnie was pretty close to it now, he measured, diving from a plunge and taking his grapple on his right's corner, where he could see the gray factory submerged with lackeys wearing different insignias.

Dick took a quick moment to study going into all four planes with the help of his grapple-gun; the place that was completely surrounded, he'd counted fifty-one armed bulky men, with seven snipers on the third floor windows located on the perimeter of the state.

'_Guess that leaves off the main door.' _He thought jokingly, finding two of the snipers up-on the roof and smiling devilishly at his next course of actions. _'Nothing like the good ol' fashion way in.' _Then he cracked his neck, diving from his perch towards the scenic promoting the car ensembles that was changed with Eddie's mad messages. He had a very good look from the two men on his post, and like many uneducated criminals, they kept rounding the level one at each side—on far ends—with a two minute wait to change their spots to the spot on their left like a clock.

'_They never learn, do they?' _With that, he waited until the shift came, where he jumped and landed with a silent roll to his left, creeping into Lackey No. 1 with ease; his stature didn't matter—it sure hadn't when Robin was born as a menace to all of Gotham's creeps—so he leapt with one fluid movement into the shoulders of the grown man, hand already landing on the grown-man's mouth to keep the expected cries mute to his buddy behind them; the hand aiming to remove his own was also expected, hence why Dick had used his remaining extremity to puncture a spot on the back of his head that had him unconscious; the sound of the meat falling not a deterrent, for he was already leaping into the next one that had turned with half a question on his mouth and procuring the same treatment.

Landing on his feet, the first sidekick studied the grounds, finding the stairs he knew where ought to be somewhere if anybody was in the roof, and searching for a vent nearby; once he seized his price, he made his way inside, going with his hearing that caught indistinct mutters from his privileged position on the ventilation system and finding the Gold Pot at the end of the rainbow.

Sometimes Dick just had to had his incredible sense of humor to get-by.

He was just above one Engine Room, but right now he could very well distinguish The Riddler sitting arrogantly at the end of the Control buttons with his cane in hand, ignoring some random rhymes from Jervis—The Mad Hatter; on the far left-corner, Black Mask sat regally with his perpetual frown, giving Harvey the evil eye, the ex-District Attorney ignored as he obsessively tossed his token on the corner at his left nearby an eye-rolling Cobblepot who apparently had decided he'd had enough of hearing Crane's psychological profiling taunting the short man to admit his fears with that familiar mask that had some added tubes for (Dick could dare a guess) his fear gas. At the right Harleen Quinzel kept her ever gooey form over the cause of her disease: a placid-looking Joker seated at the other end of the large table in front of Black Mask, staring straight into the other Mob's face that kept glaring at Two Face instead; an unexpected face—Tommy Elliot, otherwise known as 'Hush' was in another extreme of the table with both arms crossed and back to his bandaged head daring the Penguin to a spat that had the other male glaring at him every few seconds that weren't used glaring at Crane.

Well, this could have gone insanely better, Dick considered. What made the sight worse than it actually was—a feat if Dick knew any—was the constant stillness of the room; nevermind Crane's quiet taunts or Jervis' whispers, the room had an immobility that got the aerialist on edge.

'_No sense in avoiding the inevitable. Time to face the music.' _The Wayne primogenitor thought, steeling himself for the confrontation. _'… Bruce is gonna kill me when he finds out about this.' _Was his presentiment thought before finishing loosening half the length of the screws from the vent grill and then kicking-it open and landing a second afterwards on the center of the table; blue eye meeting the sick green with a slowly upturning crimson-grin. He stood up ever conscious of his every vertebra straightening his small back; both hands ready with his well-maintained characteristic escrima sticks Cass had brought for him. Right now they were the only thing that kept him still and reassured of a successful escape when the need came—because it was inevitable to think so.

"Lady," Dick procured with a cold-voice, raising ever-so slightly one raven eyebrow at Quinn, not missing the amused glint from the Harlequin's blue eyes he steeled his gaze once even further; glaring at the rest of the room's inhabitants. "Gentlemen. It seems you've been enjoying the party without me—we'll have to do something about that; it's very rude to have been the last one invited as it is."

"_Hahahahahaha! Well, well,_ _look what fell from the nest.~!_ I knew I liked you the best for a reason _Boy Wonder.~_" Joker's malicious jeer was the first from their side, from his right periphery Dick could watch every Head in the Room on him; Two Face getting himself across with calculated steps (token still at-play) into a healthy distance from Joker's right to demand his attention.

"Just like you said he would Puddin'~!" The blonde chirped with her arms over The Prince of Clown's shoulders; resting her head with his content.

"SiLEnCe! There's a penance for failing to report to the Court's Meetings, Boy, and mockery will get your scrawny hide nowhere." Harvey spoke, making a brusque catch of the coin mid-air. "yoU nEEd To REMemBeR I OwN YoU, bOY!"

"Hey, with me is all about the timing, and being chatty is part of my charm," Dick back-talked to the D.A., making sure to keep his good-eye locked with his, "kinda the thing you would know if I really was under your charge Harvey, but that's why you are where you are, and I am where I am."

"Magnificent!" Mad laugh from Scarecrow dulled Harvey's retorts alongside the Joker's. ("See?! That's what the Bat's been missing to fool with! Some good ol' jokes!" "SHuT-up ClOwN!") "Tell me, was it _fear _that prevented you from coming here, Boy Wonder?" Crane finished placing his two-cents, and Dick glared at the man. Ignoring the heated glares between Joker and Harvey on the background. "Although the real question would be fear of _whom—Batman, _or _Us?"_

"Nonsense; such brute ways to ruin a perfectly high-quality riddle! Riddle me this, little Robin, _"Which acrobat family gambled with their lives, and has now been left to fly solo?"(_4)" Eddie, ever the narcissist, forced his attention to him, and Dick tightened his hold at the mocking insult.

"As if the lad wouldn't know that, Nigma," Penguin's condescending voice quipped, never one to be forgotten. It was different dealing with them like this—knowing who he was, and who he'd been before Gotham, and Dick knew it wasn't something he'd ever get used to, "Listen Dickie, we're on a tight schedule, so if you could get your dirty feet off the table we could get this meeting going!" Cobblepot continued, ever high-almighty and with short-fuse that had Hush grinning at him in malice.

"I'm all about ending the deal, Cobblepot." He spoke not missing his standing. "But you guys seem far more interested in the change of Weather. Who am I to not obligue?"

"Oh Richard," Elliot finally spoke, remaining seated, "how you've been missed—I tell you, nothing personal involving you kid, but seeing Bruce _so broken _all the time was starting to get boring." The former best-friend of his father spoke cruelly, and Dick had half a mind to incapacitate the adult redhead. "Who would've thought taking you away from the performance would be all it took to destroy the man?"

"Leave him out of this, Elliot."

"Whatever—Batman isn't the point in here, time is Money, so what's it going to take for all of you to actually move!" Black Mask shouted at the end of his nerves; the Criminal Lord had never been good at controlling his character.

"Will you look at it—the devious man is right! Alice is waiting for us!"

"Shut yer trap, Jervis." Penguin spoke also losing his temper, and while Dick's plan had been to turn them against each other, it was a little-ahead of its time. Thus what happened whenever the Inmates got together to scheme.

"You haven't answered my riddle, but what can someone expect from tarnished blood?"

"Not that I'm not enjoying this, but we're getting off-topic here," Dick rolled his eyes, "what do you want?" he returned to his stoic countenance, and the room went silent again. Joker slowly stood from his chair, Harley staying-up and Harvey taking another step ahead, alongside Crane and Penguin.

"Well Dickieboy, you've just been so _rude _without paying us a little visit from time to time! Remember Uncle J. doesn't like to be alone, _otherwise I get __**bored**__.~_" The Joker put-out darkly, and Two Face sidestepped The Prince of Clowns brusquely.

"You've been flying solo enough, lad. Take a good look what we did to Gotham for a couple of days—DO YoU rEAllY WAnt ThE ciTy tO BuRN?"

"You were supposed to go after Beta, Grayson!" Black Mask scolded with his irate features, and Penguin sneered in disgust at his Mob Rival; both villains far away enough from each other. "Didn't this asshole told you to go after Beta?!" He signaled to an irked Harvey Dent who took it in himself to share insults with him.

"Hard thing to do when other things come into play, and you don't do much to help." Dick easily answered. "Whatever the 'cause, you _will _stop the attack on the Asylum, less I might forget I'm in such a _great mood _and call for Batman to meet me here while I take you down one-by-one." The aerialist spoke intimidating, not doubting his words for a second, and easily ducked out of the way of an impending bullet from Black Mask that got him into an argument with Eddie calling him 'brute'.

"Listen, boy! You better keep your chirping to a minimum, or we'll forget one gift we made especially for you." Two Face scolded him, renewing his consistent patterns with his keepsake.

"Oh Dickieboy—I'm afraid Harvs my man has a point! You see, it'd be _awful _to see the littlest of your nest taking your place on the end of the Crowbar." Joker stated, and Dick's glare told them what they needed to know in regards of Damian; but Dick had foreseen and taken action. He was a Bat. "Well whaddya know! Touché, Grayson! Now let's cut to the chase—we have something for ya.~"

Stepping into the folds of the delusion, Jarvis placed their token on the table right next to his left feet before returning to his usual spot.

"Hand that over to the doubting chessmen; it'll take you a step closer to the madness." Riddler placed-out and Penguin rolled his eyes again, making clear his agitation at putting an end to the Meeting.

"Beta will soon follow—tell me _GRaySoN, DoES it hURT WheRE YOu stANd?" _Two Face jeer at him, and Dick steeled his glare, shutting momentarily the madman and hearing Joker's boisterous laugh alongside Harley's at the action.

"_He's so cute Puddin'!_ Whatcha say we skip the papers and sign the adoption Mistah J.~!" The loon doctor gushed-out and he felt a little sick at the eating stare from the Clown.

"Oh you little minx! What a great idea, but you forget there's a Bat to remove to get Junior on the family~! And damaged goods aren't the kick of the joke—even with that pretty eye left-out.~ If I were you, I'd start paying more attention to those yanks Wonder Boy—they could save your life one of these days.~" The malevolent Inmate steered at him, and the feeling to empty his stomach came again.

"We've waited long enough for the second in your linage to move you out of your place Boy Wonder," Crane placed instead, giving him the space to try to erase the previous comment from his memory and emitting a shudder from Jervis who had kept tranquil on his spot.

"Yes, the Red disgrace of your family fails to live-up the standards of someone with my High Intellect."

"And the smallest one flew out the nest—is there a reason behind that move, Richard?" Elliot pointed, receiving another full-glare of Dick.

"You're the ones running the City—so you tell me." The gypsy placed-out. "Now, I'm sorry to drop-by and leave, but got places to go, people to see—I'm sure you guys get the idea." He commented before evading a hand aimed at his neck, crouching as a smoke bomb was thrown in the center of the table; his limbs moved fast, taking the object with apprehension before taking his leave right where he came and ignoring the rowdy laughter he'd left behind.

He was adept at making his way-out, sure that would be enough to deter the attack on the Asylum now that he'd appeased the Beasts.

Checking his internal clock, he bared the awful sensation over-passing his small frame, and made his way into the cloaks underneath the Meeting Place where Catwoman would be waiting as she'd told him. He was about to jump from a gargoyle when he felt the presence looming behind him, and Dick grimaced at the reality: he really didn't wanted to face with him with the current amount of weariness draining him-out.

Suppressing a sigh, he turned his whole-self; standing tall and straight like the past hours hadn't happened.

"Hi, Bruce."

* * *

><p><em>~- 01:47hrs. Streets of Lafayette, Old-California. <em>

He'd gotten out of the confines of the Batwing almost fifty minutes ago now, his objective clear once the unfairly treasured 'Black Bat' had taken them towards the distress call farther away, letting him in-charge of their Vehicle with clear orders to stand-by so _then _they could deal with the riot in Lafayette.

-Tt-. As if Damian had any intentions of following her orders around. He'd waited an ungodly _half an hour _far above the skies, hidden in the darkness of the night for any message of Cain.

No more, another city of California was also in peril, and he was capable enough to deal with it himself whilst the older Bat kept dealing with the 'Main Crisis'. The situation wasn't good, that much was evident once he'd landed with his grapple, having left the Batwing on Auto-Pilot by his gauntlet's computer in the spot Cain left him if the need came. Such was why the Heir of Wayne had lost no time to deliver his pent-up aggression towards the Enemy without sparring measure; he'd been, after all, shoved-off from the danger his City was left in.

Like a child.

His glare doubled, firm on projecting his justified anger into productiveness and ending this Battle in the least amount of time possible so they could return to Gotham, where they were truly needed.

Night-Robin didn't trusted in the incapable hands of Drake or that Fat-girl to aid his father; Todd had better chances if he got up his place and actually _decided _to do something about it, but the Son of the Bat knew it was foolish to consider such an option. So he fought, and stood his ground, grunting and incapacitating the oppressors of Justice with his every move to see the effect was slowly, but surely making a stand.

Almost after an hour and a half had gone-by, the numbers of ungraceful holders of Leviathan's colors were falling back, and scattered refugees were less as they had taken it upon themselves to flee like the cowards they were.

Damian knew because it was that same mass they've protected that now thought highly of him and his crew, that had once brought doubt and distrust, and took everything from them.

From him.

Still, it remained his duty to protect them, serving as a beacon of Justice like his brother was.

Then something caught his eye as he jumped from his position on-top of a crumbled wall; the white lenses of his mask trying to pinpoint the moving dash as the computer in his mask attempted to give him better readings.

A thought of a similar encounter with Bart Allen (5) resurfaced to make a suitable comparison. The only speedster alive was that of Dick's incompetent excuse for a friend's lineage.

The girl if he wasn't mistaken, and Damian rarely was. It brought an alteration to the state of affairs.

Night-Robin had grown to hate unplanned altercations.

Some fire was left in the sidelines now that the riot was slowing its pace with his clear introduction of the Batwing's gears; it was a petty move, for it brought attention to the enemies that Batman or someone of his Group was in the place, which normally sent the remaining forces to run away otherwise enforce capture, having been acquainted with their usual tricks whenever they got the Jet involved, but the situation had made it imperative—Gotham needed him first and foremost, and he'd already wasted practically **three hours, **on the state.

The dark vigilante fought some more, now with considerably less people on the streets, taking care with ease of the remnants and avoiding the growl deep within his throat at the superfluous boisterous cries from the Resistance who took their opportunistic turn to demonstrate the false dominance they possessed.

It matter not at the moment, Night-Robin reminded himself, strolling away to be beneath the Batwing so he could take his leave as he adjusted some new directions on his gauntlet's yellow hologram; those fools were fickle, and he was far above their self-indulgent antics to provide them his high-breed attention.

Damian hadn't needed to pay attention to his steps, full-aware of his surroundings that his unimpeachable teaching enhanced even as he kept his eyes attached to the stats in-front of him, nor he was under the false pretention of thinking this meeting was avoidable.

He'd placed the target himself in the face of the Batwing for more than his primary reasons; always thinking ahead.

"Speedy—see? It's one of them!" He heard a girly-voice usher in fast pace, assuming that was the Meta he'd caught a glimpse of minutes ago. Stopping in his study, Night-Robin frowned, recollecting the name of 'Speedy' was that of another one of Dick's stupid friends long deceased. In addition to it, such name had lingered vacant of a face once the redheaded addict became Arsenal, and, afterwards, Red Arrow—a stupid as a name if Damian had any criticism to pass; it was just like that fool Harper to take Queen's alias into his own, and it disgusted the Wayne male the same manner it disgusted him the mere sight of the blonde double-crossing Archer.

Oliver Queen was on his list—had been for a long time.

Hidden in the dark parts of the alley that hadn't a touch of orange from the blazes, he got closer to his objects of inspection, his glare unsympathetic at the view of two young females who kept themselves right below his trap, staring at the Majestic vision that was the Batwing.

"Yeah—you're right! Maybe Batman's here!"

'_Simpletons.'_ Night-Robin thought derisively, properly naming them as the daughters of the two males he'd thought off. _'It's a wonder they remain alive with the sheer stupidity of falling into a trap and staying there. –Tt-.' _

Now that his bait had been taken, he was left pondering which option to take in regards of the children playing a game ahead of their League; his inspection had come with a distasteful flavor once he'd gotten a look at the outfit from the smaller raven, and the disposition that presently 'lacked' the outfit of the taller one. Did these girls were repeatedly dropped on their heads as toddlers? They clearly knew nothing of this World to start pretending to be heroes out of nowhere without suitable preparation.

It really was a miracle they've remained alive after being part of this riot. _'However, considering one has super-speed as a power it falls on how much of the time was spent running-away.' _He concluded with his head-high. War was no plaything; the sooner those stupid pests got hold of it, the better for him and his crew.

"Not Batman." Begrudgingly, he stepped away from his conceal, arms over his well-defined chest and voice as cold as Mr. Freeze's weapons, glaring at the two shocked females who'd taken a gasp at his sudden appearance. "Not yet." Night-Robin added out of practice. It'd been long since he'd been plight about his rightful place; he had adapted a new persona for him, and was, in no elucidated way, sure he even wanted to be Batman anymore.

These strangers hadn't a need to know that though, thus why falling into the statement seemed an ordinary practice.

"You—who are you?" The one in the 'Speedy' uniform asked, completely awed at his mighty appearance.

'_Hm. As they should.' _He thought, his countenance unmovable projecting his far superiority towards them. "Night-Robin." Then he spared a quick glance at the Meta up-close, not masking his aversion at the redhead's pathetic juvenile wardrobe and passing the same stare at the red uniform of the Archer who was without arrows. How useless. "Are you dense?" He all but asked, the whites of his mask glowering in distaste at the flabbergasted expressions on both young children.

"Excuse me?" 'Speedy' articulated with contained insult, whilst the other one was now attempting to decide whether to continue the glare at him or not.

"It's either you're both dense enough to consider yourselves fit to be here in the delusion of procuring aid, or Genetics are at the fault for your asininity in the same setting." Night-Robin continued unaffected; stopping seven or eight steps away from them, less stupidity was contagious.

Both tensions erupting on their shoulders were expected at his blunt insult. Anger quickly overpowering their pale cheeks as they took a step closer, presumably in the hallucination of intimidation.

"-Tt-, genetics it is." He concluded not missing the flinch and agitated breath of both teens.

"You don't know _anything—_!"

"How _dare you_—!"

"Simpletons." Night-Robin cut mutually their verbal flaring, leveling his studious gaze on each one with slow attention before leveling his stare to remind them of his flawless position to label them so adeptly. "Roy William Harper Jr., and Wallace Rudolph West are no strangers to me, nor are their inept attempts at partaking Superhero Roles." He kept unfazed at their fury. "Furthermore, it could very well serve as an explanation of your presence here. Being idiotic enough to think yourselves your Fathers' kin and getting yourselves killed in the process. An act that is surely new in its accommodations." The male gambled an educated guess that was reinforced with their flinch underneath their hard glares (Hmph, he's seen better—_Drake_ could put them to shame, that's how pathetic they were). "–Tt- You're lucky I came, and took care of it."

"Our dads were _not 'inept' _Superheroes!" The one in the civilian clothing said enraged, and Damian took-in the slight vibrations enveloping her lean figure, making a note to investigate further if the girl knew how to vibrate her molecules through objects like his stupid redheaded father did. "You don't even know what you're talking about! How full of yourself are you?!"

"They were heroes way before any of us were born and you will respect them!" The other one, what was the file's name on that one?—either one, really, it'd be less of a bother if he could remember their proper names, but, once again, he'd never paid them attention because they simply weren't worth it. "And who are you to think you're better than us? Night-Robin?" she kept, lowering her annoying screeches but not her flare. "We have been around the Superhero World since before we were born and never before had we heard of you. What makes you think you're better than us?"

"They were—_are_ the Main cause of our Predicament." Was all he allowed himself to bark-out on the delicate subject regarding both full-grown gingers. "Hm, it's no surprise you lack the knowledge you sprout, however it changes nothing." He said, not about to demonstrate his true irritation at their qualms. The solution to his pondering was simple by the same root it became a nuisance—they were the kin of his brother's friends whom he cherished to the point of losing his life; while it was hard for Damian, with his brother back in the picture he couldn't leave the two unprotected lest with their sudden idea of 'saving the world' that brought them here. "You two are coming with me to Gotham." He told them factually, averting from rolling his eyes at their shocked stare by what he assumed, was a strange turn of events. "You'll remain safe there until I know you can be trusted to lay low on your own like before." Topic closed, he returned to his computer, checking if Black Bat had attempted to contact the ship as he wasted his time on the females with him.

"I'm sorry—_what?_ You kinda lost us in your whole verbal diarrhea back there." The Meta spoke annoyed, and he shared the annoyance at the insult.

"You're not safe here. Thus why I'm taking you with me to Gotham until your puny brains return to your previous sense of staying hidden until the end of the War." He answered cross, not sparing them a glance as another array of instructions came unto his screen; Black Bat had made no contact, and his return to Gotham was imperative—though his lack of update in his City's status could mean one of two things—there also had to be a reason the ex-Assassin wasn't done with her task yet and he wanted to find-out why.

"_Who _do you think you are?" The girl in reds and yellows demanded, taking a step forward that Damian noticed out of his periphery. "You know what? We thought we could ask for help to whomever of your crew appeared but you can forget it—we'll get-by on our own just fine."

"Yeah—so you can shove that stick up your ass and leave us." West procured with her lips in a frown, and he was forced out of his tasks as he glared at them in aggravation. Here he was, being generous enough to offer them salvation and they dare speak to him like that?

Genetics indeed, Dick's so called "friend's" lineage was low-mouthed Neanderthal at its best.

Movement at six o' clock stopped him from uttering some well deserved degrading terms towards the pair, distinguishing an Enemy approaching and releasing with praising reflexes a Wing-Ding (6) towards the nefarious pest's chest.

"Whoa—easy there!" The soldier had yelled in a suspiciously female tone, barely missing his perfectly aimed weapon by a hair when the Meta ran and removed his target from the spot. He frowned visibly, watching in abhorrence the West twin setting down the smaller form right next to the Harper girl.

It seemed the females were working with the Enemy then—how low they've fallen.

"_Whatareyoudoing?!_ You could've seriously _hurther!"_ West put-out wholly submerged in her antagonism; Damian could share it at this traitorous act.

Despite, though, these were Dick's "nieces".

Taking a breath, the male returned to his stoic countenance, strong arms returning to his chest as he glowered at them.

"It was my intention, yes—"

"Are you out of your mind? Seriously, _who do you think you are?"_ Harper found the need to repeat herself at the same time as the new addition remained unsure of its spot.

"Son. Of. Batman." He answered dry; emphasis on each word to convey the meaning and insult their acumen—a victorious feat by their offended stares.

"You know what? Whatever, I don't even want to know." The new Military addition placed, quelling the other two, and it was sole discipline that had Night-Robin placing the seemingly female as an Ally; upon closer inspection, while her gear procured Military garments, the colors were wrong, and the Soldiers were rarely 1.57m to boot. "You're a good guy and so are we, so whatever happened back there or before we can all just forget it, okay?" It was definitely a female he found, undeterred as she sent meaningful glances at the previous pair who looked within an inch to argue the point.

Hm, so she was their voice of reason was it? How discomforting.

"It's inconsequential; the point here is that you two are coming with me to Gotham and we take our leave now." The call from Cain wouldn't take much, and every procuring heartbeat demanded to accommodate his Home Base back to normalcy. They've spat mindlessly enough.

"¿Qué? No, no no, you got it wrong—we don't need to go all the way to your City. You can contact any of your Team in Gotham, right?" The girl who sprouted Spanish procured, and really, Dick better reciprocate Damian's godly efforts to keep him happy at this continuous demonstration of stupidity at its finest.

"_Obviously."_ He drawled, hoping the female could finally detect his annoyance. "I don't have time for asininity. You two," he spoke to the Genetically-flawed teens, "we are going." Then he brought his computer to write the command; lowering the extra cables on the Batwing.

"And what about _her?" _West affronted with clear objection to his dismissal. "Youthinkwe'llgowithyoujust'causeyou're _saying so_ andthenleaveourfriendtoo? Are you _stupid?"_

His glare returned to those green eyes, taking delight in the sudden cringe of her muscles that she attempted to mask. Her speech was too fast for him to catch it completely, but one word understood in between three or four was all his high-intellect needed to form the pattern.

"Irey, calm down, don't rise to his bait." Said "friend" added in a testy manner of her own that Damian ignored. "Look, just hear us out for a minute, ¿de acuerdo? (7) We'd really appreciate it if you could do us a solid, and contact Catwoman for us." She continued as if the suggestion hadn't the same amount of insult than the derogative name he'd been called prior. At both her sides, the other two forgot their quarrel, and offered widened stares of hopeful disbelief.

"Oh—Catwoman! How could we not think of that when we saw him?! _She'sperfect!"_ West made a poor demonstration of speaking the same velocity as her feet. He'd noted how her speech became an impediment when the female was too riled-up by her simple emotions.

"That's a great idea—who better than the World's Greatest Thief to help us!" Harper added nodding in agreement.

"_She _offers no value whatsoever." The dark vigilante broke the trio of their enthusiastic chat, signaling at the girl in Kevlar in regards of the first quail, indifferent for his lack of tact; three cables had now completed their travel from the Batwing, and he approached one of them to secure his grasp. "As for the _sleazy thief, _there's nothing in her countenance that would be beneficial for others, nor is she considered that far above the likes of you. Grab the lines; it's time to go."

"_Mira (_8)_,"_ the female playing soldier bit-out, her pride affronted at being swat by him, "we're not asking _your _opinion—the only thing we actually _need _from you it to let us call Catwoman. None of us will go with you to Gotham, and the fact that you're assuming they will is enough to _not _do it."

"I'm not letting a simpleton dictate my course of action, your lack of foreboding is enough to see such brute education resulted in _this,"_ he replied irritable himself, delightful in the shorter girl's irate temper at being addressed as a thing. "Gotham needs me, they come with me because I say so. Now, grab the lines; we've wasted much time."

"_Malcriado hijo d—(_9)_"_

"_Wow_—is that who I think it is?" A voice broke-in the dispute that was fast becoming violent by stance of the girl who was now almost invading his personal space, and Night-Robin's eyes went double their size, gaze focused on the small projectile that was suddenly in the space between him and the pest in Kevlar.

"Robbie!" "_What _are you doing here?" _"Youpromised!"_

Each of the females blurted out in a scolding manner at his brother, the one whom spoke in Spanish (_please, _he'd known that language before the female had made it through the alphabet) making to grab Dick's small shoulder to remove him from Damian's observant eyes.

His jaw clenched; the Wayne heir would have none of that, just about to seize the offending interloper as his emotions of betrayal ate his insides—Dick had been with them, he could see that much—but the acrobat had taken hold of his reaching hand instead, yanking him in an uncanny acting of _real _excitement.

"But he's Robin—I mean, Night-Robin. If I had stayed I wouldn't have met him here." Dick explained smugly, turning to see the ambivalent positions of the females before returning to him. "This is _so cool_—I betcha you carry lots of cool stuff on your belt—hey! Are you coming with us too? Sweet!" His countenance flattered.

What—? Damian shook his head lightly at this confusing new development; he needed to focus on his new resolutions. _Not_ on how disturbing a sight his brother acting the part of a child was perfectly accurate. Two months of searching clues to his partner's location had proven futile, and while it was by some unexpected reward for his continuous diligence that he'd crossed paths with the gypsy, his objective of returning him to their Womb remained intact.

Regardless of his strange, and irritable behaviour.

"He's not coming with us, Robbie," Harper stated as West made a grab for the circus boy who easily sidestepped her and strengthen his grip on his hand instead, "we were just discussing some things, but he's not going to help us, so let's go."

Unacceptable.

"But I haven't even talked to him yet."

"Maybe another time, we've stayed long-enough in here—it's starting to creep-me out how quiet it's become." West added with a pathetic upturn of her lips, lowering herself to the circus boy's statue in her stupid thought it'd be easier on a youngster.

His insides churned at the mockery, repugnance almost becoming visible; they obviously didn't know who they were talking to, a venture Dick was smart to take by Damian's opinion. That, nonetheless, made little difference on his revulsion at witnessing a more than capable grown-man treated like some naïve easily-dissuaded child.

"But the place _is _clear—Night-Robin wouldn't be here out in the open if it weren't." His brother spoke as if the females were the children (as he should), and Damian grunted in agreement, getting a glimpse of his one electric blue by the rim of the shades that was letting him know how the acrobat thought of the matter.

"It _is_." He spoke out of the necessity to show his partner there was no need for the patronizing stare nor stinging comment.

"See? So there." Dick said closing the subject while aiming the three speechless women a turn of his head for a span, then going back to him; the hold on his hand steady. "Can I ask you something?" At the females' expected refusals he continued, "Man to man. Don't suppose any of you could help with that?"

"…está bien (10)," the girl in green sighed in defeat to which Damian fell into the need to roll his eyes at their stupidity—how had Dick endured this so far? "Just, don't take long, okay?" At his brother's nod, the female placed her attention to him, glaring through her brown windows. "If anything happens to him, you and I will have a word."

About to retort, the tightening grip on his gloved hand prevented him from belittling such pathetic attempt of intimidation, receiving another one full-on when the West twin made a gesture indicating she had her eyes on him, and Harper threw him another dirty look underneath that red mask.

"Over here," he felt his brother's yank, and naturally kept his pace with the smaller but older Wayne.

He would be taking him home.

* * *

><p><em>~- 02:52hrs. Abandoned Bank, Lafayette, Old-California.<em>

He was dead-tired. For the past couple of hours, the carnie had been going non-stop from Point 'A' to Point 'B', jumping to 'C' and 'D' at once, and the fatigue was slowly eating him-up. He had barely arrived at the rendezvous point with Cassandra minutes ago; the strenuous meeting with the receding Heads of Gotham far on his mind—the face he had had a 90-10 (and really, Dick had just been optimistic with that one) guess in favor he would encounter before he took his leave. After all, almost nothing got out of Batman's knowledge if it involved Gotham.

The first of the Wayne's second Generation resisted a defeated stance; the encounter with Bruce was raw on his mind, and he didn't want to think about it—not now. Sometimes he hated his brain for not listening as one small part kept throwing images of their encounter in Gotham just little after the break-through ended. Bruce had told him how the attack suddenly stopped, and ten minutes later, trailed him to his standing point in that stone guardian. He would constantly kick himself and curse everything within a kilometer radius in some hours. For now, he needed to take care of another thing—someone else.

Cass hadn't said a word about the stumble upon their Father—whether the woman decided he'd had enough to endure, or didn't know wasn't on his list of musings for the day, and rapidly they were back in California, where Damian had left the Batwing and subsequently, both warriors were outside of it, in the dry terrain of the State. Dick handed Cass the small dusty-box, laying-out the instructions for his sister to follow, gave her a quick hug, and left—sure she would get the gig done without questions that he didn't had the heart to answer.

Now came his other obligations, he contemplated playing with Selina's prop inside his pocket moments before grappling his way into the Jet with Cass, and the circus boy knew this was only the beginning of his life; he just lamented he felt more tired and falling to the side-effects as the days ran-by.

"Are you out of your mind?" Was the first thing he said to his little brother once they've both secured the premises (and his thoughts from further dwelling) and Damian had retracted the lines back into the Batwing. He removed his shades, placing them on the neck of his hoodie; his disgruntled feeling verbalized at the time he crossed his arms over his chest, with a scolding stare his previous partner-in-search-of-crime couldn't miss.

"_I_ wasn't the one who escaped the Security of our Base without saying a word, Grayson." Damian quickly answered him, removing his own mask, and Dick glared openly at his brother.

"You said it so yourself—I _escaped _because if I had stayed in Gotham you guys would've never let me go out to the field. Kinda had a feeling of incarceration going-on there, hence the whole 'not saying a word' thing." He didn't miss a beat in turn, bypassing his little brother's agitation. Damian might've grown, but Dick had been arguing with Bruce long before the teen was conceived—finding strike in arguments was a second nature. "And I'm asking you if you're out of your mind for your reckless behaviour back there." Dick kept admonishing the teen.

"The situation was secure, the grounds no longer compromised." The adolescent spoke arrogantly, but he didn't find endearment on the action like he'd done when said male was barely ten.

"You stood in the middle of a recently extinguished civil war for _sixteen straight minutes_." Dick permitted himself a roll of his eyes in exasperation. "Excuse me for considering your behavior less than professional."

"Our leave was prepared—if the inept daughters of your deceased friends hadn't offered resistance we would have been on the Security of the Batwing." The taller raven tried to excuse himself, his tone flaring with indignation at being proven wrong.

Dick would have none of that.

"Ordering them to go with you after you kept insulting _them_, and _my 'deceased' __**friends**_ wasn't going to get you anywhere." At Damian's clear shock he raised one eyebrow. "Oh yeah, I was there the whole time—'Son. Of. Batman.'" Then he scoffed at the rising red on the teen's cheeks. "With that display, there wasn't any doubt whose son you are."

"You _left me."_ Damian gritted out, taking all blows he'd aimed at his conduct, words and open-guard hard. The teen should have realized by his own of Dick's close surveillance. "You openly said you wouldn't leave me and you did, and all you're worried about is how those _simpletons _react to my decisions to keep them alive out-of _respect_ for _you _instead of telling me why you left in the first place?!"

"I already told you why I left, Damian." He answered, observing with a sad stare the mess his baby brother was. "And I'm sorry, but I never said that—implied it at best." When all that Damian did in retaliation was cringe, he sighed tiredly. "It's not that I don't want to be with you, Damian; but I told you before I wouldn't lie to you, that's why I'm not. Doesn't mean I don't care for you any less—you're my baby brother, no matter the strange circumstances, and I love you." Dick spoke with sincere care, approaching the stiff countenance of the tall teen, while wishing he had his normal frame to reach for the seventeen-year old's shoulders. "You need to understand that I can't stay cooped in the new Cave—the Mission is far from over, and you've got no fault on that."

"…"

"Damian, look at me," he continued sober when he had silence in return, meeting half the stare for his brother who seemed to contrite on his own skin, and placing both his hands over the forearms of his partner in his desire to convey his warmth, "you need to stop pushing people out—those girls are very good people, and you straight-on insulted them."

"They were making idiotic decisions—they have no training—"

"Not to call pot, but I doubt you'd have taken notice of my watchful place hanging on a window above your head if I hadn't intervened. And I'm aware of that." Dick cut Damian, keeping both his stare and hold. "I'm also working with them, but, as you can imagine, it's a little challenging with my current predicament." Then, he grinned wickedly (the black mask doing nothing to hide so), stopping the insult flaring at his young brother's chest—the teen was not happy that he'd chose the rambunctious youths with little to no-training instead of him, Dick was sure. "That's where _you _come in."

"What?" Was the ever loquacious answer at his unadorned request.

"Go with me for a moment on this Little D'—my nieces and Milagro need to infiltrate the School up-north here in Lafayette; there's an underground Laboratory of Leviathan that has something of them, and they need to get-it back." Then he steeled his penetrating eye against the azure ones' of his brother. "They went today, but they're really far from ready, and barely got out." He didn't needed add his contribution on making the place safe, lest he further add insult to the injury of how he'd been looking after the three teens instead of him. Besides, Damian was ought to assume it anyway. "It's not like I can leave them unprepared as they are, so who better to teach them than my former Partner?" He fixed the bait so to get Damian to agree.

"How long have you been staying with them, Grayson?" His brother questioned instead, glaring at him like a wounded animal, and Dick felt like he had been living to his surname far too many times in such a close span of days.

"Not as long as you think. Twelve days now I guess." Dick spoke, amused at some hurt lessening from his arrogant little brother's orbs. "Try not to look so sad about it Little D'." He joked, enjoyed the pout—Damian was _pouting—_of his charge, but knowing better than calling him on it.

Ah, the joys of being the elder.

"It's been almost two months, Grayson." Oh, c'mon, they were joking now, was their encounter doomed to his Last name? Dick knew his brother had come to use his first choice—he was just being difficult now.

"Travelling all the way from Gotham isn't a walk in the park, Damian."

"-Tt-, you had no reason to leave, and we have the Batwing. Serves you right." Damian regained his countenance and Dick barked a laugh at the easy flow they've regained in their interaction, placing both hands over his chest and straightening his back.

"Always wanted to travel the Road like old times, and, hey, when opportunity knocks," He spoke, enjoying ruffling the other bird's feathers so easily at his seemingly nonchalance of the whole anomaly.

"Are you dense? Do you have any remote idea of what any sleazy bystander could do if they saw you?" His brother went back to try and get smart on him, but Dick had gotten the general context of the notion; it had only been enhanced by the adolescents' antics towards his well-being (not like he had induced much attention while being on his own), however, he lifted his eyebrows, aiming his sibling a stare that was effective in making the raven realize how impossible it would be for any person to get a hold of him if he didn't wanted to. "Unacceptable. If you are not willing to return to Gotham with me, then you give me no other choice than remaining here until you recover your senses. Hm, it's a wonder how you've abided for the ungodly span of two weeks your pesky company without going mad. And you know I'm the only one capable of deploying a task successfully."

The carnie shook his head, amused at how complicated Damian always forced things to be no matter the age.

"Sure do kiddo, so, you ready to go back and meet the crew?" He asked with too much teeth in his sentence, throughout enjoying the clear distaste his former Robin had regarding the girls. "Just remember to keep from biting—they bite just as hard and back." Dick finished, placing his glasses back on his face and walking out with Damian one step behind.

"I'm obliged to say your acting skills as a pesky manipulating child are eerie accurate, Grayson." His former partner conversed, and he smiled at it.

"'You can take the Boy out of the Circus, but you can't take the Circus out of the Boy." Dick answered knowing full well the adolescent would pinpoint the far away memory of a case they've worked when Batman and Robin had been their titles; he was rewarded with a satisfactory smirk visible from the transparent mask on Damian's face, and it lifted his spirits if ever slightly. He'd spoken briefly with Cassandra, and she told him of Jason and Damian's growing—but testy—relationship, and her own with both of them. It made the aerialist glad to know his brother's heeded his thoughts on the matter, and there wasn't any need to worry about Bruce or anyone back home for now, so he took his time to inform the youngest Wayne about his cover and his interactions with the girls, paying special care to reinforce his usual spite wouldn't be regarded with low-heads and self-doubt.

One less thing taken care off on his Overall Plan.

* * *

><p><em>~- 03:21hrs. Napa Hospital Ruins, Old-California. <em>

She had heard by Dinah some small group of rebels were in the North of California when the bleached blonde gave Clark the reports of the day, clearly dismissing the event like nothing-out of the ordinary and relaying she'd taken care of it by sending some soldiers in Lafayette. Superman had been placated easily, and Diana pretended to be so likewise.

The Amazonian Queen had waited patiently, biding her time to go investigate on her own accord the source of recent problematic in their Domain; Hera had blessed her and nurtured her intelligence, and Diana had only waited to make her leave to set her new destination.

Diana had barely arrived when the riot was already over; a discontent frown marring her privileged beauty and went scouting in search of any ruins that could provide any glimmer of understanding to her quest. She was nearby a Hospital, now, just walking with her stern look at the demolished grounds when she found her.

A petite assassin covered from head to toe in the apparel of Talia's minions. It got her on edge, but before she could deliver any retaliation from the visage, the small ninja procured a small-dirty box on her feet slowly; with watchful blues, Diana waited. This had been the most progress she'd made-out on her search, and the option to ruin it by her righteous fury wasn't conceivable. The mortal must have sensed her quails, for she slowly stepped into the shadows of the building; a discernible nod towards her, before vanishing like her trail.

Cautious, the grown woman stepped closer to the object on the soil, staring intently at it. The box couldn't be for something smaller than a necklace, so with care, she crouched, getting into one of her knees as her inspecting marines never left the offer. With a strong hand, she picked it-up; her face close to the rim of the box's opening, and with the help of her other hand, Wonder Woman opened the small pack.

And found her first mistake of the day.

* * *

><p>(1) <em>'Dammit,' <em>literally means 'Curses', but it also means 'Dammit' and there-by is used when cussing in the likes.

(2) "[…]thank God"

(3) His other personal motto, like "I'm Batman." Love it, and there was this one time Dick told that to Damian, and the ten-year old said it was stupid. Oh Damian.

(4) From the Game of Arkham City.

(5) Issue Teen Titans v4 88-92. "Meet the New Boss" where Dick, under the name of Batman way before they knew Bruce wasn't really dead, sent Damian, under the name of Robin, to learn to interact with other people asides from himself and get some friends and trust in the meantime. Tim (Red Robin) gets there, and basically, Bart (Kid Flash) rescues Damian from a bomb by carrying him over his shoulder. So he's acquainted with how Speedsters work.

(6) Batarangs styled for Nightwing; they are his weapon of choice in many comics, and also the game DCL of Arkham City of Nightwing.

(7) "[…] alright?"

(8) _" Look,"_

(9) "(You) Spoiled son o—" The you is implied.

(10) "… alright,"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__I can truly said this was exhausting to write because the content was _so heavy _I really _felt _Dick's growing weariness. That said, this one is pretty high on my list of Favorite one's. Constrictions keep fading away for the overall piece, so it's just about to keep gathering things as they go by. Time for coffee. Oh, Timeline will be updated within the week, but the almost done Map signaling Gotham's Districts is already on my Profile, there's one or two Heads missing._


	17. Old Wounds, New Directions

_**Author's Notes: **__Has it really been almost a year? Ah..., so it's been quite some time since we had another Flashback, thus here's one and another which isn't really, but it sums up parts of the past of that character anyways. After this, another leap in timeframe will be made, but this is the 'conclusion' to the past four chapters. Also, this is getting longer than expected, so the pairings? Yeah, they won't come from a long way. 'Eventual' is literal here.  
><em>_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Angst, __Foul language, substance usage, descriptive scenes of Violence and Gore, War-atmosphere, and Death._

_Thursday November 1__st__, 2012 "D__ía de los Muertos."__ Words: 11,060_

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XVII.- Old Wounds, New Directions._

_~- 03:21hrs. Streets of Lafayette, Old-California._

"There you are Robbie—started to worry us, don't do that again." Speedy was the first one to approach them once he and Damian had found the trio hushing themselves when they got within some meters. The air had turned too cold to muster for the young hero, so the speedster had taken it upon herself to radiate heat to keep her friend warmth until they got to their camping place.

"Sorry, lost track of time." He put to avoid any arguments that already had the Night vigilante glaring.

"Not your fault, it's alright." Milagro voiced in her cheerful way, aiming a false look of politeness to his brother that had him grimacing at the vengeful stare Damian was giving in return; Dick could just tell this was going to be _swell. _"Though I thought you'd had a notion of time at the very least; my bad." The girl continued in a feigned civil way.

Before Damian could place his own counter, he intervened, yanking at the left hand of his brother he'd been holding.

"I'm tired," he stated, gaining the attention of all four taller figures, "can we go now?"

"Certainly," Night-Robin, domino in place, responded before the girls did, and aimed them a look that shut all three of their upcoming-opposing arguments promptly, turning his attention solely towards him a moment later, "we'll get to the Batwing first, and proceed afterwards." Then he returned his gaze on their flabbergasted expressions. "You three are to wait hidden, that is, if you can manage a simple chore." He finished returning the jab at Milagro, who automatically glared back in response, and Dick just wanted to massage his temples at the arrogant air-headed teen; he'd specifically went over this with Damian before, figures the young man wouldn't want to do this the nice way.

The more _easier _nice way.

"Stop—just _stop_—seriously, stop trying to snatch people! He isn't a _dog, _and he's isn't going with you _either!"_ Iris said completely infuriated (Dick couldn't blame her—Damian usually had that effect on people).

'_Another thing that _doesn't _change.'_

"Irey, calm down." Speedy hushed a little her friend, who knew the input wasn't about voicing her sentiments, but the volume of them. The five were hidden on a secluded alley, not that far above the Batwing; being so late as it was, the dimness of the sky aided their spot tremendously, though some places where still within tiny confrontations here and there. "We let him talk to you because he wanted—but that's it. He doesn't need you."

"Vamonos (1) Robbie, it's been a rough day; nice trip." Milagro was the last to say the final word, reaching to take his unoccupied hand, and already sensing the Wayne's slow temper rising, he doubled the force behind the hand of his brother.

Time to adjust his acting skills up-a notch.

"But he's coming with us—tell them Night-Robin." He spoke disregarding the hostile ambiance. "You said you'd even help us, see?" He kept talking, now full-attention on the girls. "The bad guys don't stand a chance with all of us combined!" Dick finished hooking the line and looking smug.

"He's not coming." The latina spoke factually. "I'm sure he has better things to do than keeping us company Robbie, we'll do fine on our own."

At that, Damian snorted elegantly, and Dick wanted to glare at his brother for making things difficult when they'd _agreed._

"Unfortunately, he's correct; whilst I'm not looking forward to the idea of wasting my time taking care of you lot, I won't leave him with that burden either. None of you three are competent to be on your own, less of all, complete any task that might require further training from you, so I'll take it upon myself to lead this poor excuse of a group until we can get back to Gotham." The oldest teen stated conceitedly, clearly proud at the three staggered teens that were rendered speechless.

Dick only felt his headache grow stronger—the urge to take his commanding place greater. On the upside, the unvarying yank common from the past hour or so was back to its very- faint tolerable throbbing, but Damian was a league all by its own.

The gypsy just hoped they could get past this and move unto the next day; really, his head was _killing him._

"Um, see? He's on board," He said placating in an effort to make the other more socially-adept adolescents bypass the juvenile taunts.

The young women halted their stare to watch him and he made his best to convey friendliness into the equation by half-heartily swinging his hand within Damian's hold; if they focused on the common denominator then he'd be able to call it a win.

And they would too.

Eventually.

"…sí,… we can _see _that…" Milagro spoke slowly, sharing a silent message between the other two who looked no better than her for the wear; at that point Dick had half a mind to seriously scold Damian on his attitude. Then, after inhaling silently, she looked at him and relaxed her glare, completely ignoring the other male in the secluded space, just like the other two. "You said you're tired, huh?" He nodded, going with the plan to get into the Batwing. "We'll go back to our spot and get some sleep; it's really been a rough day; bet you're hungry too." Again, a nod, thanking at least he could count on the girls' predictability—or their good will to bypass immature behaviour for a greater good; that is, until they found a way to toss his brother out without his persona knowing of it (like _that _was gonna happen). Whatever the case, the circus prodigy would take it.

"Sounds like a plan, let's get moving." Lian stated, turning to make their way with Iris in tow—but not without giving his sibling the bad eye.

"We'll arrive shortly, don't wait up." Night-Robin muttered instead, and disrupted the hold almost unwillingly (or maybe it was just his exhausted brain's delusions) to turn-on his computer imbedded on the gauntlet to let the machine's cable down to make their way.

"And why do you need him to go with you? We could care less about your business, but Robbie's in our care." Irey sprouted angrily; like Wally, she wasn't abashed in showing dislike to someone who she clearly thought deserved it, unlike tranquil Jai.

Why couldn't Jai come with them again? His nephew would have made the transition less stupid.

Damian—ever the Prince—didn't procured them any attention, doing his own thing, so Dick glanced at the holocomputer, getting in the personal space of the Wayne by using his elbow for support to explain his peaking; the adolescent didn't seem to be bothered by it, which spoke volumes in their ways of showing affection, and while that lessened the aerialist's agitation at his former partner's quirks, it wasn't enough.

That in mind, Dick had no qualms when he hit a particularly bothersome pressure point just a sliver, and watched Damian bit his tongue from lashing at the treatment. The taller male swirled his hidden orbs at him, and Dick lowered his head enough to let him see his blue glare by the rim of his glasses.

A clench of the last Robin's jaw was enough to welcome (_finally!) _victory on the subject.

"He's below average on his BMI (2) for his age; the pollution of the air might've also affected his organism in unknown ways, and given I'm not taking the Batwing in our endeavor, its best to scan him to locate any possible illness that might be ailing him now that it's possible." Damian explained keeping his voice civil in what was visibly—for Dick, at least—grating his nerves. Soon, the realization sinking on the other ones was enough for the acrobat to breath-out in relief at the testy vigilante—he was still letting him know he should have done that in the first place, though.

"Oh…" Speedy was the only one who uttered at the clarification; the girls obviously taken aback from not thinking of that earlier.

They were good kids.

"Yes, so, does that warrant enough to satisfy your inquiries, or do you need me to specify the tests he will take?" Night-Robin bit out and Dick took it in himself to drag the teen out before more could damage their exit.

"_C'mon, _I'm tired—the sooner we finish this, _the better,"_ then he watched the girls, "I'll take him to our camp! Be careful."

After three hesitant nods they were gone and a lone cable descended from the Jet. Both Wayne's took it, Dick resting in Damian's hold for appearances' sake, and being placed smoothly on the Batwing's metallic floor once they've reached their destination. He took off his glasses, glaring at the teen and raising an eyebrow in condescending fashion that had his fourth successor blushing and turning away from him in search for the medical aid kit.

"That could've gone smother."

"-Tt-, you give them too much consideration, Dick. Now, come, I've got one thing to take care off before we leave, and you'll be waiting for me here." He told him, and Dick shook his head, a tired smile on his features as the teen removed his mask at the change in name.

At least it wasn't 'Grayson' anymore.

"Mind your tongue Little D.', that could've seriously went better if you stuck to your end of the deal. We'll have to work on your social skills later—no debate; otherwise I don't think we'll be able to spin this off." He said, taking away his hoodie with a sigh, and running a hand through his messy locks as he neared the other Gotham Protector. "Whattcha gonna do?" The circus boy feigned curiosity—he knew damn well what the other one would do.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself about," Damian answered him predictably and he smiled, closing his eyes, and hopping into some boxes that served like an impromptu table last time he was here, where the taller was standing with a medic kit already opened, "have you been eating properly? Sleeping?"

"Yeah, we've been good; the girls can take care of themselves, and we do make it a habit to eat on a regular basis." He responded, adjusting the socket on his right shoulder and sighing in bliss when it popped, creating a delicious crack that Damian frowned about. "Nothing's changed much since we saw each other Damian, but I do appreciate the concern." He said, and removed the leftover shirt after the initial attempt of the other male.

"…you're not experiencing pain anymore?" His brother continued when the only barrier standing in the way of his naked torso were the bandages he kept to prevent the awareness of his leaking; Dick overlooked the stressed frame of Damian—the kid was trying his best to look unperturbed, and he wasn't comfortable enough to address the subject either.

"No, though some new bandages would be great right about now; soon enough we won't need any biohazard weapons if I keep on smelling like this." He said, taking it in himself to remove the sticky mess with no trepidation; that would be enough to calm Damian's nerves at the very least.

"Hn, that's irresponsible, Dick. Infection could spur from unchanging them in your condition." The other male belittled with false pretense; focused on searching the white folds and the gyspy had to grin at the charade. He really wished Damian didn't had to see him like this; it was essentially the first time he was staring directly—sort of—at his so-called 'condition', and he'd seen from mirrors before that the sight wasn't pretty.

Dick was the big brother, mess, or not.

He opted to shrug instead, trying to keep the focus of the other one on something else as he finished unwrapping the muggy mess and rolling it in one solid ball to keep it out-of-sight from the other one. The rolls of toilet paper he'd placed at Ollie's were past their survival range, having glued to either the cotton, or his skin.

"Hey, pass me that peroxide bottle?" Dick asked and ruffled the teen's hair when he appeared to be having some trouble with glancing at him, or keeping his hands otherwise occupied. "Thanks. Tell me, what have you been up to lately? Any news?"

"We have some new discoveries that might lead to a hidden Base somewhere where the Enemy conducts experiments on their troops; Father's hypothesis is that civilians are used in favor for the soldiers guarding the Empire." Damian narrated like he was reading the report, and he nodded, finishing with removing as much tissue leftover and being handed some gauze while Damian kept talking. Being "freaky-flexible" (contortionist, please) was a perk he never got tired of showing-off. "The location is yet to be disclosed, however, once we've made the precise investigations on it successfully, we'll be breaking-in."

Another nod, and he was almost finishing with the wrappings—it was only then that Damian went to help him now that the view was deceitfully concealed.

"What's the next step?" He asked, and leveled Damian a look when the other one had refused to answer. "I'll find out with or without your help, Damian. You need to understand you can't keep me from this."

"… Father will send Cain to the grounds, presumably with Todd." Then, the teen finished dressing his wounds, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning in discontent; it was at that look that the acrobat experienced a stab impaling his chest by the hopeless emotion the teen was trying to hide—it just wasn't right to have Damian looking like that.

"Hey, it's alright—nothing we haven't handled before." He attempted, without avail, then, at the closed expression from the teen, Dick understood. "It wasn't your fault, you know that, right?"

The male's naked eyes told him all he needed, and he smiled sadly at the teen, getting in his two feet and pulling his brother into a tight-proper hug. When all the teen wanted to do was separate himself from him, Dick's embrace got stronger, and god, it was heart-wrenching feeling the teen going rigid.

Suddenly he felt very stupid; it hadn't just been about his disappearance leaving a wounded pride on Damian—yes, Dick had summarized the younger male would be feeling abandoned, but he hadn't toyed with the possibility of his brother feeling misplaced guilt about the circumstances.

He felt like the worst brother.

What about Tim, Cass, and Jays then? He just did the same to them too.

"Damian. Listen—_it's not your fault._ You told me not to go, remember? These things happen in our line of work, and it was _my _decision. You need to remember that the past is past; I'm here again, and you're not getting rid of me that easily kiddo." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Damian. I'm sorry I left you. It wasn't your fault." He murmured by the teen's head.

Maybe he had a tight schedule—but if Dick couldn't prioritize between his family needing him, and the Mission needing him as well, he shouldn't be out in the first place; and right now, the priority was his little brother.

"I'm sorry habibi,"

* * *

><p><em>~- 03:44hrs. Napa Hospital Ruins, Old-California.<em>

Finding Diana whilst Damian was occupied telling Cass off (or whatever the Wayne youngster thought he would use as an excuse to their sister without naming his place in the plate) was relatively easy. After both adopted Waynes had arrived back at Cali, he'd left Cass with instructions—the impromptu wardrobe and Diana's delivery—just like she had shared the whereabouts of where the sensors indicated the grown female was at the moment. Now it all fell into timing (a personal forte of his) in view of the fact that the drug wouldn't last that much on an Amazon Warrior.

A slight shine of yellow on the dark confines was what guided the aerialist to his prize, smiling in victory at the sight of the older woman completely knocked into unconsciousness, resting against a crumbling wall (courtesy of Cass, he aimed an educated guess) not that far away from him.

Creeping into her (he still wouldn't push his luck), he reached her barely making a sound, all the while opposing his personal need to really _look _at the woman, focusing instead on getting a small chip that had been previously attached to the outside of box that now laid discarded close to her hand. Then, with careful fingers, he placed the contraption behind the golden tiara, almost bordering on the limits underneath, so the previous hero wouldn't locate it.

His stomach felt odd; he was doing something he never thought doing when the World wasn't Topsy Turvey, and even if he knew it was for a greater purpose, placing Jarvis' mind-control gizmos on someone he respected wasn't his ideal choice of action.

Job secured, he hesitated briefly once he turned to make his leave; immobile like a statue in his spot next to the woman before lowering to her ear—disregarding the dry lump of his throat.

"_It's best that Donna isn't here to see you." _Dick murmured, bypassing his feelings on Diana's furrowing brows and immediately regaining his previous step. The trigger was up to him—the delusions were probably already active on her mind, but they would deviate with his two-cents shortly, and then he could call it a day and get some shut-eye for the next part of his plan. Right now, he would head back to the Batwing and wait for his brother.

Besides, it was the only thing his mind kept swirling around during his whole visit to Diana.

* * *

><p>~-?-~<p>

She shouldn't be here—what on Hera was she doing here? Her head ached and there was a strong dizziness rupturing her senses as she stood completely perplexed in the Coast of Themyscira.

The woman squeezed her eyes in a mortal attempt to remember her steps, but found herself incapable to find success.

For Athena's name how had she befallen prey to her inner desires to return to the Gods' Sanctuary on this Hell-bent Earth? She had promised Hippolyta—she had promised _herself_—this _had_ to be a mistake, and yet, as her blue gaze ate greedily the sight of her aged home, Diana could no longer fathom the delusion that had her doubting her current place.

She felt weak; dirty at tarnishing the soil she destroyed years ago.

Finding resolve within her needs, the Queen gave her back to the Island after one last contemplating gaze; her presence was no more welcome than Hades was at the Olympus. It mattered not what brought her, she would follow her sisters' wishes and leave—

"Urgh—"Diana grunted when at the first attempt of leaping towards the sky she ended falling against the receding sand. "What on Hera…?" The proud warrior whispered to herself, standing tall and taking a second attempt to fly away (this time gently) only to widen her navies in shock when her feet remained impaled into the ground.

Shaking loose her momentary-panic, she steadied her breath, aiming to recompose herself—she was probably tired, having flown all the way here after doing what her treacherous mind wouldn't let her know she had been doing before.

'_Exactly, that's probably it.'_

However the case, Diana was an Amazon, and thus, unable to give-up on her endeavors, so with all her concentration she searched deep within her to the core of her powers, and prayed the Gods for strength in this moment of time before she jumped; hoping to propel herself into the skies, and failing miserably, leaving another imprint of her feet back on the sand where she catched herself in time.

This was _not_ happening. _How _was this _happening?_ Her mind kept twirling; battling against her desires to search for her Mother and sisters, of falling prey to the wistfulness of her Home's safety when none wanted her here, of not knowing what she was doing prior to this situation, and in aggravation at every downturn she encountered, the proclaimed 'Meta' gave-in and spluttered half a yell honorable of an Amazon in distress, turning down the craving to punch something in dejection to instead sigh miserably at her position.

Seconds appeared to portray eons, when she found herself more in control of her urges, but the desolation invading her senses obliged Diana into hiding her face in one hand whilst the other one was wrapped around her waist.

Everything just seemed too impossible to bear; she just needed a moment to quit the spinning on her mind to fathom a leave, besides, there was something at the back of her mind that kept nabbing at her—taunting in reconnaissance somewhere in the abyss of her mind, the raven just needed to ponder quietly on it, however, Diana deciphered it was the desire of Zeus to deny her wishes at the sound of rattling leaves behind her—an unwavering warning as she turned, facing eight of her sisters coming-out; spears and swords ready to defend their Paradise from the intruder.

The woman lowered her exquisite eyebrows in nostalgia at the sight.

She had been so lonely without them, but the dagger in her heart resonated its presence when at the sight of her, her fellow fighters took a turn for the worst; their position more threatening when surrounding the former Superhero in the World of Men with the razor-sharp weapons only a hair away from her throat.

'_All my doing. All this aggression my fault.' _ Diana thought, solidifying the other Amazons' antagonism completely, even if it did nothing to quell her bleeding heart.

"What are you doing here, Diana?" Desdemona demanded, and it made her blue eyes drown in guilt at the weary wrinkles that now bestow around the brown orbs of her sister.

"Desdemona, …" she spoke, mouth dry at the sudden uneasiness of the situation, but nonetheless standing her ground; exiled as she was, Diana was the Queen of the Amazons, and she owed it to her people to stand straight, "Sister, I apologize for my wrongs in coming here; the circumstances following my arrival elude me, nonetheless I was taking my leave as soon as I saw where I stood, worry not."

While that served to explain her position (she would hide nothing from her kin) it didn't lessened the women's confrontation at her place.

"Well, it's clear flying is not going to work for you, Princess," a taunting slick soprano found its way to meddle on her reunion, and Diana's prior gaze that was hauled in seas of comprehension towards her own, turned hateful at the recognized haughty tone when the eight warriors cleared a path and _bowed_ to the petite figure stopping right in front of her; another vile brunette at a par on her right side, "not that bright are you?" The cat mocked her, aiming an emerald gaze towards the brown gems that smiled in return, sharing her ridicule.

"It falls to her kin's low capability; after all, they're only good to follow orders." Talia conversed with Selina, completely sidestepping her existence and the Queen of the Amazons hardened her glare, completely unwilling to bear such insults. Immediately, she stepped ahead to capture both vile mortals who dared march into the Sacred doors of Themyscira, and then offend her own. It was a quick succession of movements where her sisters fell into her at all at once, and stopped her raging body from ever colliding against those two lowly miscreants, who only smirked in delight, as if they never doubted for their safety, insults to the Warriors aside.

If anything, it doubled her yearning to rid the World of them, but as if by the same mysterious reason of her flight abandoning her, her remaining strength had vacated from her body likewise, and no amount of effort would get her out of her sisters' hold unless Hera answered her forgotten pleas.

"I'd quit trashing if I were you," Selina purred, aiming one green commanding glance at her sisters who followed her unspoken request at a heart's beat, lowering her to her knees so the Gothamite could stare her down instead of the other way around, "lest you might break a nail for your unrealistic whims."

"What on Hera are you two doing here, Selina?" Diana raged at them, her stare growing colder at the shining mischief on the cat's orbs, and the superior gleam in the darker ones of her unlikely companion. The hands that were previously just hosting her against her two Nemesis became ruthless, actually twisting her limbs to propel pain that she was now capable of discerning with her powers completely gone.

"It would serve you well to acknowledge your betters with the correct amount of respect, you fool." Talia answered instead, conceited in her demeanor. "Your manners are no better than the rest of you."

"Mamma wasn't very keen on keeping her tabs on you, was she?" Selina smiled, throughout enjoying her position over her. "Guess being born on a Golden Crib isn't really all to it, is it? At least," then she grinned more wickedly if that was even possible, "in _your _case… I do know of someone dark, tall and handsome who would differ to it."

"Hmph," at Talia's elegant clearing of her throat her cohort smiled at her.

"Don't get offended by it, doll; who's to say you aren't dark, tall and handsome on your own either? Certainly not within my nips to set get me going, but to each its own."

"That's neither the case, nor the point." Talia replied to the smaller woman, and was it erroneous of her to have her growing headache worsen by each syllable spoken? Diana had no idea of what was going on.

"Don't look at me like that, you're the one who made it into something," Selina replied amused, like this wasn't strange at all.

"Stop this." She demanded, interrupting the duo and grimacing slightly when the twist on her limbs became unapologetic once more, but keeping her hard glare at both past lovers of the World's Greatest Detective. "This mockery cannot go any longer—you dare insult this sacred place—"

"The only one insulting it is you, Diana." Hippolyta came behind the two mischievous beings, and Diana felt her heart sink at her Mother's unforgiving gaze; confusion ebbing itself on her confines, because so far, it appeared the Amazons held a high place for the Criminal Minds testing her patience. "You were banished from ever stepping foot in the Ruins of Themyscira, and yet, you dare come here, disobeying the rules upon your exile, and even _daring _to speak against your Superiors." The former Queen of the Island spoke regally, despite her aged countenance that made her insides turn, and the raven haired-warrior gritted her teeth in shame, placating her anger at the last of her offenses named; it wasn't viable, for Athena's name, it _wasn't._

"Mighty Hippolyta, I beg your forgiveness for my faults, however, my presence here is beyond my recollection," she started, feeling unworthy of her Mother's condemning stare, "I apologize for the turmoil its caused you and my sisters, but I do wish to warn you of the danger that is hauling these two women who aren't part of our kin in Themyscira." The exiled Queen finished, raising her dark blues at her Mother's mirrors to convey any small measure of understandment that might be receding between them with no avail; Hippolyta no longer considered her her daughter, and Diana had nobody to blame, but herself.

"You dare keep-up your imprudence after all it has caused so far?" The oldest Amazon bellowed with hurt tones, but Diana kept her gaze glued to her irate mother's. "It is for _you_ that we now stand under their Command! It was _you_ that rendered our kin to the War of Men and let us into Doom's claws awaiting! _You, _our _Queen_ who preferred to wage war under the hidden reason of a broken heart against a man who _never_ spared you any special attention instead of protecting your own! —Of protecting my smaller child and _failing _for a _second time!"_ Hippolyta raged, voice breaking at the end while disclosing her worst offenses against her without consideration; the climate had changed, no longer a light blue conforming the sky, but a hoary-scale that revolved around her in a siphon of despair in cue with the disclosure of her offenses, becoming hastily into the darkening air that moved her curls and clothes violently. The other Amazons had fastened their holds, drawing blood from her arms and neck whilst they yelled inside her head at her betrayal that left them on a single-digit number.

Zeus was making show his restlessness as well; lightings provoking to punish her and no one else, and Diana watched, sorrowful how her sisters were suddenly at her Mother's side, who stood a little behind the two perpetrators that witnessed the display with an evil satisfaction visible on their features.

"Mother, I—"

"I'm no more your sire, than you are a proud Warrior of the Amazons!" Hippolyta continued, unrelenting, feeding her worst fears. "Do you really think that man would have spared you a glance? You've nothing to offer that our Leaders can't offer him ten times over!" Hippolyta continued, referring to the Thief and the Assassin who bathed in utter pleasure. Then the previous Head of the Amazons turned away from her, and bowed to her knees unto the coiling sand at both women—the last remaining eight of her sisters replicating the motion as they prayed under the names of the two female Criminals.

Diana couldn't take it anymore; she ran, diving into the sea that was under Poseidon's wrath, feeling the water consume her in a tsunami of vengeful fury and spit her at the crumbling sand after what had felt like a millennia and seconds at the same time. She spluttered the water from her lungs and shook her head, the waves affecting her psyche, but still making an attempt to stand, grabbing into a stone nearby for support when her legs buckled underneath her weight, and shortly afterward falling into an abyss underneath her, where the smell of humid dirt and rotten plants egged her out of her confusion, looking up when a thunder illuminated a shadow of a Night Creature she knew too well, high on normal ground, before disappearing all together.

"Bruce—Batman—"She called bewildered in a myriad of emotions, no answer to her qualms. Slowly but surely, the rain became a downpour and she cleaned herself; mud blemishes over every inch of skin, before attempting to climb to her freedom, but the ground was unstable and wet, and Diana only fell into the ground of her prison; the sound of old wood breaking shattered by her own cry at a piece of the same wood that impaled her right thigh from the fall.

"**Bruce!"** Diana yelled without conceiving the reason behind it, grimacing and letting out another shriek when she made to stand, falling (this time face first), into the broken lumber.

"My, my, so eager to take her place, but that's not for you,~" The taunting voice of the Cat provided and she shivered in disgust, getting up to try to climb out of the hole in the ground once more at the sight of Selina perched on top of the broken stone that had failed to keep her steady.

"Someone else deserves that Resting Tomb; someone other than this _weak _comparison," The Head of the League of Shadows kept where her partner left of, standing proud on both her long legs unlike the Thief, and only then did Diana realized the wooden logs beneath the wet dirt where she stood.

"…this…" she barely made-out in crazed whisper, clenching her pearls when she stepped on her injured extremity at the wrecked coffin.

"Poor thing, she's too slow to get it, isn't she?" Selina purred diabolically from her perch, but Diana's navies were fixated on the head of the resting ornament that had a discernible crack into the inside, where something had just _moved._

"Indeed," Talia kept conversing, and another thunder lighted her and the unfinished grave—Batman's shadow barely hiding another movement from inside the coffin, "it's the main reason behind her long list of Failures," the brunette kept with her malicious tone, wherein Diana found herself crawling to the crevice, her whole figure trembling with ache, "she was never too bright on her own."

Her hands grabbed the opening, feeling a chilly wisp encompassing her fingers; if she could just open it, maybe she could get away from everyone—from the hurt and the ever-permanent shadow of the Bat eating her figure that came from the two evil creatures above her.

"Tsk, you'd think she learned that by now, then again," Selina took where the other left; a viciousness the broken warrior kept trying to swallow in her sudden desperation. The log on the coffin was fast becoming undone—a distinguishable fracture resonating on her secluded space within the earth promising her redemption once she freed it from its confines; just a _little_ _more_, "curiosity _did_ kill the cat."

A thunder, and with one last effort the wood was taken apart from the case, but Diana found no redemption inside the sleeping ornament. Behind her the cruel laughter added to her terror-stricken blues meeting the twisting carcass of a boy she loved like a son. One wrecked sob escaped her lips, and after that, the grown woman swallowed the others that came behind it, a dirty hand covering her mouth—her eyes fixated to the sight of Dick Grayson in a Batman uniform that was too large for him twitching in remaining agony, however there was no light nor recollection from the rotting infant; pieces of his skin swallowed by maggots and flesh pouring pus wherever visible whilst his eyes remained a vivid blue, staring intently back at her.

She didn't wanted to see him—she hadn't wanted that to happen—she didn't—

"_But you let it happen."_ A new low-pitch placed between, her phantom hand taking hold of the deteriorated carcass' cheek with utmost love, and Diana couldn't believe her tear-filled eyes at the sudden apparition that had her sister's form. _"You failed to protect me from death anew, and then you took the life of someone who you knew I cherished beyond comprehension."_ Donna spoke eerily, still caressing the child with sorrow. _"He was my best friend—my _brother,_ and you took him away."_

"Donna,…" The wrecked warrior beckoned, reaching out to touch the ghostly figure of the young woman. "My dear sister, I—…" Diana attempted, but the glare from the departed Donna Troy froze her hand mid-reach; instead, the spirit crawled her childhood friend like it was her own dead child on her bosom, and the guilt encompassing the Queen of their kin was too much to bear. "I'm_ sorry, _Donna." She said instead, gesturing the other adult female to hear her pleas, "I'm sorry my little sister, I—"

"_You went mad with a loss that was given by your own blade, and brought ruin to the World of Men," _Donna howled, unforgiving, _"you helped killing my friends, and never gave any of my own the entombment we deserved. Now my soul is forever condemned in the depths of Tartarus." _Then she started fading away with the corpse between her arms.

"Donna—come back!" Ignoring the pain on her thigh, Diana stood with visible effort, reaching for her retreating spirit.

"_You destroyed us, Diana, and for that, I can never forgive you."_

"Donna—!" Diana jerked herself awake from her sister's looming voice, blinking in a panicked frenzy when her gaze couldn't find her previous captivity. Where was she—where was Donna? Her mind wondered as she took-in the fallen terrain in the murky night, where she was reclining against a previously white wall. _'It was a nightmare,…' _she concluded drained, with only the solid proof of her racing heartbeat to such horrible delusions of her mind. _'Sweet Hera,' _Diana thought exhausted, covering her face to quell her inner turmoil.

It had all felt so _real, _so _**raw**_**. **Her mother, her sisters, Talia, Selina, Batman—everything, even the pain on her limb—

She pressed a hand over it, finding her skin flawless underneath her golden skirt—only the ghost of pain flickering in the realms of her mind, and then she remembered the last parts of her atrocious dream.

'_Oh, Donna—,' _Crying softly she let the stress leave her body at the horrendous conjunction of her minds-eye; forcing herself to regain stability before she found herself watching something lay upon her lap—recognition making her glare despite the redness of her eyes.

'_**Talia.'**_Diana growled, directing herself into the more familiar anger waves and taking the offensive material with more force than necessary; now she remembered—she had opened the offering and found herself the victim of some gas. It was all the doing of the al Ghul messenger.

Her blues became slits.

_No one_ had a right to toy with her, Diana repeated to herself furiously, about to throw the trash that had her suffering something that wasn't the Assassin's place to withhold, but stopped just in time when she barely caught sight of a crumpled paper inside the offensive material, taking it with more force than necessary, and also finding something metallic imbedded into it. The sky was too dark for her to figure out the apparent message, nevertheless, such was easily solved. With conviction, she touched her lasso, making it shine in gold's and yellows enough to distinguish in a simple bold pattern the words: _**Search roots. GO North**_.

Grumbling, she bypassed the need to squash it on her palm, focusing on the leftover piece stabbing the paper. She frowned, a single-silver earring, too rusted and with aged imprints of dry liquid (blood, presumably), depicting a Half-moon.

She gasped—both her eyes wide in shock once she recollected the battered jewelry.

It was a trace, the raven permitted, no doubt ill on her own subject, but she was closer to finding the ghost of her past. Deciding on inspecting further she returned the object of her rupture inside the trinket (something she would keep), hesitantly taking into the skies with fair success; the imprints on her mind were withdrawing with the pace of time, but she still needed to rest and consider her next steps in the peace of her quarters.

Another vengeful stab at her heart kept her moving, but the Queen dwelled it at the promise of retribution.

Talia had no excuse to toy with her, and Diana would be happy to teach the Assassin why.

* * *

><p><em>-~<em>_04:31hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum_

Stephanie stood nervously at the opening gate of the Batwing, fidgeting with her torn cape and cowl down. The attack on their Base had ended hours ago, almost by 2am, but some irate goons had still remained forceful on their attempts to get inside the Asylum, even when the big Bosses had already turned tail and went to whatever rat's nest they had on their city, and she had taken care of those small misplaced jerks who kept-up the appearance on some wacked sense of proving themselves to their Bosses.

Pfft! As if. The blonde woman knew better, and couldn't stop feeling kind of sorry for those overly-grown gorillas that really thought any of the Heads would deem them a higher regard for disobeying their orders; whatever caused the Inmates to attack had been placated, so if they were no longer interested, nothing would move them to favoring them. It didn't lessen her beat body any less though, she scowled, wincing at a particularly testy bruise that was forming in her abdomen when one of those gorillas had gotten a lucky punch (she was tired alright?).

By the time she had gotten inside their Base it was already four am, and Cass had just informed she would be returning shortly, so, Steph had decided to wait for her like the good-best friend she was—completely sure the Wayne woman would be needing some medical attention for going on a solo mission again. And now, after spending the last half-an-hour in a _very _hostile environment (Jason kept glaring at her and Tim, and her ex-boyfriend wasn't shy in returning the maltreatment as she avoided adding fuel to their fire, keeping a healthy distance between them) Cass and Damian were _finally _arriving.

Another grimace.

Not that it evened-out the odds, if anything, with Damian here, Jerkface-certified Jason Todd had someone on his side, but Stephanie was tired, and beat, and _worried _about her friends, and right now she wouldn't accept anymore pettiness from either male inside the Cave. _'Way too much testosterone.' _Batman had left her with the aftershocks on the City while he did his own Dark Knight thing somewhere and Alfred had retired already, making them promise they would be on their best behaviour, and so help her, by Alfred those boys _would be, _she thought almighty, watching with her blues the small figure of Black Bat descending the Jet with barely a scratch.

'_Good news at least, we can always have some of those, God knows we need 'em.' _The current Batgirl reflected, stepping towards the smaller female after throwing the men a look that indicated hell would fall upon them if any aggression came-by.

"Cass, I'm glad you're here, how are you? Hey, where's Damian—he's okay, right?" She said, her happy tones at her uninjured friend quickly accelerating to a worst turn when no moody-teenager came following the older Wayne. On her periphery she could distinguish an antagonistic upturn on Jason's posture, who stepped forward towards them whilst Tim remained rooted to his spot.

"He—"

"Night-Robin is otherwise occupied and will not return until it's said otherwise." Batman's voice interrupted the apologetic one of Cassandra's, as he descended (from apparently nowhere) into the Main Console with them.

"What?" She asked the Batman perplexed by this turn of events, turning her sight on the other young woman when no answer came from their General, only to find the girl giving a slight shake of her head in return. "But, he's fine—he has to be fine if you're letting him—"

"Night-Robin will be dealt with later. The Asylum has been locked and the City is under control, I expect a full report by 0900 hours." Bruce interrupted her panicked thoughts (the last aimed at Tim who nodded and immediately found himself typing away on the Main Console) with a finality that scared her—she wasn't afraid of her Mentor, and respected his decisions, but there was something… _off… _on Bruce, and it left her on edge—like he could explode at any minute, so she ran-by her instincts and slowly nodded her understanding, unknowingly standing closer to Cassandra.

Something was _off_ on Bruce... something was _really _off on Bruce…

The others seemed to notice this perturbing change in demeanor too, if their slightly changing contours were something to abide, and for a scary amount of time nothing was said, that is until Jason scoffed angrily where he had remained and then stormed-off to the Rooms' direction. Cassandra shared a look with her, and then went after the oldest of their bunch without sparing anyone else a glance.

The blonde bit her lip in worry, of course Damian was fine, but even still…

"You sure he doesn't need back-up—?" Stephanie attempted, swallowing a lump in her throat at the glare of Batman.

"Stephanie, maybe you should go to your room and rest. You're no longer needed here." Tim spoke for her without interrupting his task, and she could only stare at him in disbelief.

She knew that Tim and Damian were far-away from buddies, but even still—for Alfred's sake! Even _Jason_ had showed some type of concern! And the crazy jerk hadn't been here that long to beat the unimpressed stature of her former best-friend towards the smallest of their bunch!

With a glare at both men she stepped angrily towards the exit, weighting the option of following Cass and try her luck with Jason, _'At least _he_ isn't emotionally constipated.' _She thought bitterly at the poor example Tim had just made.

"You know Tim, at least Damian has an excuse for acting like a tool—he's still a teenager with a screwed-up life, so what's your excuse? Maybe Dick was right in leaving after all. At least then he wouldn't be blowing fusils with the way you're acting." Stephanie barked-out, taking her leave with indignation and leaving both men alone. If she had stayed she would have caught the hurt on his once best friend at the stab.

Right now, Stephanie was far too disappointed to stay on Tim's vicinity.

"… I'll have the Report done by then, there is something I needed to talk to you about, now that we're alone." Tim spoke after a door slamming resonated through the Cave's passages, then went to open his personal computer, showing some recent stats on the new Case. "A day ago, Talia made another mistake, I hadn't been able to do much with the Asylum being under attack by then, but I started working on it when you declared the Base as secure, and after some heavy researching I found one of her possible whereabouts."

"What are the numbers?" Batman growled out and he kept neutral—his General was dangerous, and it was best to avoid making him more furious.

"There's a 73% chance that she's there, the remaining 27% saying that she was there _at least _in the past 72hrs."

Batman nodded stiffly, turning to leave the Cave.

"It's your case; follow the leads, and report A.S.A.P. with news to Black Bat." Tim nodded, but Bruce hadn't waited for him to concede.

Nothing out of the ordinary there, so he went back to code everything, finish the report and leave their Main Base; if anything, right now was a great time to have a leave since even Stephanie wasn't on his side anymore.

* * *

><p><em><strong>~- Flashback: Year 2011, third week of September. State Bank, Denver Colorado.-~<strong>_

_There was _another _attack on the Bank in the past hour, and finally some soldiers new from Finland had been helpful enough to identify the intruders._

_Clark squared his jaw, upping his speed some more, only a minute-away from arriving at the freshly-made tunnels below the Bank._

'Don't those boys know anything?' _The red-cape thought frantically, detecting with his powerful eyesight the building that had so far been breached around seventeen or something times already before he got word on the redheads' trail (he personally blamed Canary for this—she was supposed to keep him posted!). The Kryptonian had been going non-stop to terminate the boys' attempts back in July when they tried to break-into his Fortress of Solitude the very first time, and hopefully today would be the last he heard of their troubles demonstrated so far. All this chasing around had become a torn on his side. _

_His blues got sight of the building, switching to use his x-ray vision from above the building and locate both young men without achievement._

_Right, Leviathan had placed lead on most of their Bases, how could he have forgotten it?_

_The man of steel shook his head, just wanting to get this over with—if Dick hadn't meddled, if the acrobat hadn't stepped where it wasn't any of his business Superman wouldn't have the Empire Leaders breathing on his neck about the peril that was in the form of one Wally West roaming around freely with his Navajo ally Roy Harper. _

'This ends today.' _Clark decided on the freedom of his mind. _'This _needs_ to end today.'_ And with that last input of will, he barged into the building. _

_He went straight through the roof like a bullet, ignoring the concrete smashing against his build like it wasn't anything. Yelling caught his attention, now free to discern more easily the commotion going on and about, and he was fast to follow-up the shooting background with his super-speed, arriving at a fourth basement with clearance from the soldiers who parted to let him pass-by efficiently, where he met his so requested duty._

_Clark floated just barely above the ground; his whole stance stiff as he crossed his arms over his muscled-chest and scorned at Red Arrow, who glared at him like _he _was the vilest of scum. His frowned deepened, because he certainly felt himself resenting that hard look on the Archer's white lenses; it was like all those times he glowered at Luthor, only he really wasn't deserving this treatment at all. _

_Didn't they know that what they were doing was considered treason—that Bruce and company were the actual bad guys here?_

"_I would put that arrow down, Roy. You boys are in a world of trouble already." He spoke, treating the young man like he was a kid again. Right now none of them had any advantage over him—he had an impregnable suit that helped him if the boys had some Kryptonite with them._

_They had no chance._

"_Funny you should say that, Big Blue." Roy answered him, and Clark scowled in return. "Cornfield and I were just about to finish."_

_The Kryptonian felt his muscles tense._

_No, Roy was bluffing—they weren't—they _couldn't _know what was behind, because if they did, Clark wouldn't have any options considering them, and misbehaving as they were, he had no ill feelings towards any of the two younger men who appeared to have forgotten all those years they spent knowing each other._

_Even working together._

"_Weren't we Fleet-feet?" _

"_You know it Bow-head. Though we kinda expected you to pop-up earlier, Supes. No biggie." Superman was brought out of his panicked state when a red blur appeared next to Red Arrow keeping his weapon against him. The Flash threw him a fierce look that matched his companion and Clark had it clear._

They knew.

"_You boys have no idea what you've done." He spoke finally, heaving as many courage as he could. _

_He knew there wasn't any option anymore; it was mandatory to do what was necessary now that things had changed so much. His hands tightened where he kept them crossed over his large chest, almost to the point of ripping his protective gear, but what could he do? The two had left him with no option._

"_Oh, I think we do, wouldn't ya say so, Twinkle-toes?" Red Arrow relaxed his muscles, breathing-in so slowly Clark wouldn't have been able to see it had he not had his superpowers in the first place._

"_Yep, we sure do, Arrow-breath. Supes here is just being difficult, but don't worry Big Man," Wally told him, his whole body vibrating at the same pace of his friend's renewed relaxation, "we didn't understood it at first either."_

"—_and you won't need to anyway." Roy finished with a silent threat, and his body was barely able to dodge the rushing speedster by a millisecond and the upcoming arrow aimed at his squared-jaw captured by the rim after it. _

_In anger, he let go of the futile weapon that couldn't even scratch his countenance, squashing the head with the sole of his boot instantly afterwards_

"_You two—" He started out, flying out of the way from Roy's continuous attacks; he needed to find Wally and dispose of the speedster, since he was the real treat, but Red Arrow kept unwavering on his attacks. It was making him angry soon enough, and despite the downturn of events that wouldn't allow him to have any of the two younger males live past this day, the archer was really testing his luck._

"_That's enough!" Clark yelled while his eyes gleamed a deadly red, shooting his laser-beam towards the single father, who jumped out of the way in time, disposing of another arrow that made impact with the wall behind him, and left an unhealthy amount of concrete fall onto his body in result._

_He grunted, completely taken aback with that attack and with a roar he straightened himself; the debris that had him buried thrown away like a measly pile of paper. Then, his keen eyes focused on the now-empty room, using his x-ray vision (nevermind how it was useless down here) to distinguish the form of his enemy from the havoc of the secret space and ignoring the blaring alarm yelling-out for help. Nevertheless, there wasn't a sign of Roy anywhere, and he couldn't have moved much from where he stood, so why—_

"_Aaarghh!" He screamed, when all too fast for him to register, the other scarlet former-superhero ran over him in one-full circle, punching him with his super-speed at its limits enough to take the breath out of him and retrieving to a safe distance not a second later when he found himself aware of his surroundings again._

_Clark glared at the sight of Wally West, who had too much energy ready to spare on him, and instantly both dashed almost breaking the barrier of sound towards each other, colliding in an impressionable manner hand-to-hand, where he had the advantage of his super-strength. Knowing it, Superman made it notorious to The Flash as he gripped tighter the smaller hands clashing with his, recognizing immediately afterward the sound of fractured bones as the Speedster yelled in agony in response to his broken fingers. Next he made another twist, now taking the wrists of the Metahuman backwards, earning another sickening 'crack' that chilled his bones from the abuse to Wally's human frame, and it simply took a moment of hesitation from the Kryptonian following, because suddenly Wally was vibrating his demolished hands from his hold, and Clark shouted in return at the ache of having his molecules tormented, letting go of the speedster in a surprising amount of time, before the redhead could explode his limbs from vibrating into them._

_Gasping in leftover pain that had his limbs trembling, he turned his laser-beam towards the younger man, watching in a desperate clash of emotions how the Meta ran from his destructive assault, leaving behind walls crumbling into nothing. Clark stopped himself for a minute, grunting between gasps at the phantom ache that needed to be forgotten, searching for the cause of his problems with less remorse after Wally's abuse._

"_Come out Wally!" He ordered, flying to every corner of the room when no trace of the speedster came-by. The alarm was still shrieking Bloody-Mary, and it was getting on his nerves fast, blowing it away at his short temper and demolishing that part of the building too, resulting on the entire floor above him covering him once anew—the blasted alarm still blaring._

_The alien gritted his teeth; nothing was going according to the plan, and he needed to stop this now, before Wally and Roy became more than a torn at the Empire's side. He shook himself off the debris, seeing some soldiers spying from the remaining pieces of floor that stood above him with uncontrollable anger._

"_Don't stay there! Where are the intruders?!"_

_At his bark the soldiers ran in a frenzy, screaming some protocols to secure the location, and avoid the duo from fleeing the scene, then, one of the men signaled behind Clark's back, where their sensors indicated some of their crew were fighting against the intruders, making him flight through the fallen wall and make his own entrance._

_Wally was the first he was able to identify, and with vengeance, he rushed at his side, punching his left ribs just the slightest, given the younger male had had a little too much time to remove himself from part of his attack. Determined to keep his advantage on the hurting Meta, he punched to his right, grazing another part of Wally's torso, and then kept jabbing back and forth—no finesse under his assault; the self-proclaimed fastest Man Alive dodged most of his attacks, but he was getting tired, and soon, Clark had most of his fists connecting to Wally's front. _

_All the while he had blocked the voice in his conscience that wailed at hurting his comrades, hurting the child he had seen grow into a respectable man—the proud image of his Uncle before him under the cowl—focusing just on the rage that willed his body in ferocious attacks that had blood painting the otherwise white protective gear from his fists, and ignoring the anguished sounds from the battered Metahuman. _

"GET OFF HIM!"_ One arrow penetrating his suit, breaking it once made contact with his skin below stole his rabid countenance, enough to make him see in colors once again, watching with wide blues the crumbled man that fell like dead weight unto the floor, barely heaving, blood dripping where he hardly lay. Before more could be reasoned another one pierced the unprotected skin, suddenly making him grimace while a deep lull weakened his knees. It was then that he started to think, screaming-out in pain when another projectile from the only fugitive left in the demolished-looking room stabbed the same vulnerable spot on his back, and sent him sprawling to the floor next to the wrecked speedster. Superman hardly opened his eyes, battling unconsciousness as he recognized the emanated glint coming from his back. "Kryp-tonite…" The Man of Steel wheezed, feeling the fury consume him yet again at being fooled so easily, watching the lingering Titan take a callous step towards him while readying another shot with a malicious glint on his white lenses._

"Stay away from him." _Red Arrow repeated coldly, kicking him away from the other one, which only served to have the sharp arrowheads piercing deeper into his insides. Clark was battling to watch the older of the two crouch protectively over his friend, who was ever-so slowly evening his breath. _'Dammit he's _healing_ himself!' _He thought moaning and if there was any chance for him to come-out victorious with the Kryptonite involved, it needed to happen now. Just then another weapon from the archer had stabbed him again, ripping a new piece of his suit on his shoulder and he bawled-out like an animal. "You're not really that invincible Clark, all it takes is some stones to have you like any of us 'mere mortals'." _

_A new arrow, once more other shoulder, and his dizzy-head was hardly able to keep him conscious._

"_You had Robbie at a disadvantage because there were too many of you—many like _Canary _who know first-hand what it's like to really _sweat_ for your victories. And Wally was running low on gas."_

"_W-we may not be at ou-ur b-b-best," Clark could make-out the croaked voice of Wally behind his bleeding body; equally distant like the archer's against him, "bu-ut it do-doesn't ta-k-take a g-eni-genius to figu-re you out, _Supes_." The Meta coughed some more, just like he himself; the black dots filling his sight blackening everything for a moment. He tried to open his eyes again, whimpering in agony and repeating himself he just needed to push a little more._

"_Luckily for you we have far more important things than seeing your 'fall from grace' first row." Roy said, aiming him one last look of contempt, taking the crumpled body of the speedster who remained too bullied to up himself and heading away from his heavy eyes; there wasn't more that he could do, lest he wanted to avoid certain death—and the soldiers screaming could be heard in the background._

_His awareness began to fall slowly, no longer capable of staying another second on the real world._

"_Fire!" "All units—Superman is down, repeat Superman is down!" "Stop them—they're heading to the freezing room!" "Don't let them pass!"_

_The freezing room—and suddenly he wasn't as tired like was before, his eyes opening as the ministrations from some unstable soldiers removing the green rocks from his body; registering in his brain what all the yelling meant._

"Hurry!"_ He ordered at the suddenly taken aback soldier who was placing two of the rocks away from his body; the frightened man nodded, taking the last rock impaled on his shoulder and running away to let him recover. Already he started feeling better at the loss from the venom that had ate his meat, dashing into the place where he hoped Roy and Wally were still battling next to their target, and finding a semblance of relief when he got to them._

_Everything from there happened in a rapid succession of movements. He went towards Roy first, slamming him against a console—sounds from bones fracturing from the impact deaf to his ears—and ripping him apart from the battered speedster; then, not letting him regain his advantage Clark placed both his strong hands to each side of his neck and snapped it, hearing the ill crack of the broken neck like the only evidence from his second murder and flying towards the speedster who had half a shout on his tongue, smashing his head to the ground and breaking his neck afterwards just like he had just done with the first Teen Titan._

_The limp body fell from his hold, and the room went deadly quiet; the soldiers who weren't groaning from injuries by the two dead men staring at him in disbelief. _

_It made him angry—they were the ones who made him do it—he hadn't wanted to—he—_

"What are you looking at?!_ Clean this up and get ready to move to the new location!" Clark yelled, trying to obscure the fact of what he'd just done to his conscience. With too much control, he stepped away from the mess, going as far from the redheads' carcasses as possible; one of his hands over his temple in suppressed disbelief and revolt. "Take that Kryptonite from the archer out of here!" He barked, hearing the hurried steps confirming his order, and taking some deep breaths, trying to regain a semblance of control before he made the call. "Contact Black Canary, now!"_

"_Yes, Sir!" Some nameless man answered, when suddenly a small phone was handed to him._

"_Black Canary, I took care of the problem, you need to come here and do some clean-up. Now." The former reporter spoke through his teeth, victorious in letting the bile of his stomach free._

"Will do, just tell me where and what am I suppo—"

"_The bank in Denver—its Flash and Red Arrow." Superman cut-out the woman briskly, not in the mood for one of her attitude tantrums. The line went dead; the breaths from the woman on the other side controlled._

"Be there in 45. Black Canary out." _Immediately she hung-up, leaving Clark alone in a room where the two bodies were his only companions until the Gothamite came to do her job just like he had done his._

* * *

><p><em>~-<em> _04:39hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum._

She had followed her brother shortly after he left by instinct alone; it was something that had Cassandra somewhat worried, given her natural impulses were always one step behind her father figure: the Batman. However, over the time, the ex-Assassin had learned that when in doubt, listening to your senses was better than ignoring them. Of course, when Jason had finally stopped on a natural crevice where water fell into the river underneath them like a some kind of rain, she found herself wondering what was she supposed to do.

Damian had come and told her off, saying something about a special lead he found without needing her permission to follow through. The Wayne woman had known the real reason behind the sudden desire to stay on California right from the beginning, so she didn't do much to persuade the young man other than what was mandatory; even still, the raven was a little hurt at how easily dismissed she was. Cassandra understood it quite well—Dick had suddenly made contact, telling her something about Damian being the target of the Gotham Inmates, and had moved from there, both of them knowing the teen wouldn't offer resistance if the circus carnie was nearby, but as unreasonable as it was, she was still worried about him.

About them.

The smell of smoke filled her nostrils, her face nude long before, and she watched with mixed feelings her other brother she had never had the chance to actually meet gazing into the dark abyss of the cave exits. The man had his red domino plastered, hiding his eyes, and his body language was relaxed; just a regular dark man taking a smoke.

She saw otherwise.

With her light steps, she walked, standing right next to him just before sitting herself next to his languid figure, right into a suspended formation that didn't allow either of them to move forward, unless they used their grapples. Her legs dangled far too many meters from the water below, but it didn't bother the young woman.

For the longest time they stood still, until suddenly Jason crouched to sit next to her, only one leg dangling and his knee high, where his right hand holding his almost consumed cigarette rested. She let this new commodity encompass her, staring likewise into nothing until she heard the oldest lit another nicotine addiction.

"He will be alright." The words escaped her mouth, but her physique didn't betray her mind. By her periphery vision, the woman saw her brother nod with no doubt.

Nothing more was actually necessary; somehow she felt better with the situation herself, though she wished she could confide in the other members of her family about her secret agenda regarding the acrobat, it was just that sometimes she wondered if her father would really understand instead of pushing away.

Sad feelings involved or not.

* * *

><p>(1) "Let's goleave"

(2) BMI - Stands for Body Mass Index, or, in Spanish, IMC – Índice de Masa Corporal. Weights body fat according to age and height, while also providing the average you should be within your group characteristics.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__For the next chapter we take things up a notch with the introduction of at least two "new" characters. New Notice, Timeline has been updated (at long last), and is up-to date now in Profile.  
><em>


	18. First Move: Black Result: Achieved

_**Author's Notes: **__Awkward chapter is awkward. At least the parts with the new characters. Damn, hadn't had such a hard time writing after this. Next ones are smoother, meaning earlier. That said, pardon any OC'ness that may or may not come._

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

_**Summary:**__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot._

_**Eventual Pairings: **__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**__ Foul language._

_Tuesday, January 29, 2013 __**Words:**__ 7,070_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XVIII.- First Move: Black.  
>Result: Achieved.<em>

_~- 07:42hrs. Book-Store nearby Lafayette, Old-California._

"Alright, so what's the deal?" Iris was the first to break the ice unable to keep from fidgeting on the soles of her feet; shameless about her nasty stares on his brother's direction.

They'd woken-up early (a little _too _early) and went on their usual round of inspecting the area just in case someone had broken into their perimeter, this of course, meant the girls only—his sibling was too busy being an ass to spare them help that wasn't some nonconstructive criticism or a scoff here and there. Naturally (because _why not?_) after such unwelcome critiques, Milagro had had enough, so he had interceded yanking the oldest teenager for a bathroom break, saying everything was alright, 'cause Night-Robin had said so before.

To be fair, even at the other children's displeasure and his brother's tantrums, they had to concede the point: Damian _had _taken it upon himself to guard their spot during the night, providing Dick with the first night of some sound sleep since his traveling accommodations with the rambunctious teenagers (just like when he was staying with Jason), so that cleared-up that the place was secure for the time being. Pain in the neck or not, Damian knew what he was doing—most of the time. It had also been shocking to see how the night before his sibling had slumped next to him on the corner of his resting spot, placing one awkward limb around his shoulders and trying very hard to portray nonchalance with the gesture. The carnie had smiled in content, not abashed into making himself comfortable while his body automatically relaxed at the recognizable warmth of his family behind the layers of Kevlar, and before he knew it, he began nodding-off to sleep once the hold of the youngest Wayne had relaxed as well.

Both of the Bat Heirs had seen the women wanting to protest at the initial contact (apparently still on edge about letting Damian in on their ragtag group), however the oldest of the three had quickly shushed them over, making them take their corresponding places nearby him, while Milagro positioned herself against the door-frame, staring directly into Damian's hidden eyes and keeping some serious eye-contact with his sibling for who knows how long. By that time, the acrobat had no intentions of quelling any more silly disputes, already comfy in his own nest, hence, went without resistance to the awaited sleep, hoping the teens would figure themselves out on their own.

It wasn't like he was going to hold their hands forever. The kids needed to learn their eccentricities and get-by with each other on their own.

Night and sleep fluttered away too quickly when Damian had the horrible idea of rousing him up out of the blue before the others got up, and, okay, so Dick was terrible whenever he got disturbed from sleep and the kid had no fault on his horrible quirks, but did they really needed to be up so damn early?

'_Focus,' _he had admonished himself, knowing it was going to be 'one of those days', (he also noticed a pattern about it, though it wasn't enough to solidify his hypothesis on the fading stabs to anyone else but him).

So after going through their morning rituals without more notable hassle here they were: awkward and tense and not in the least bit ready to be a team.

Ten points for his awesome plan.

'_Drop it,' _the carnie scolded himself; with Damian here he had no leisure to slip more than he absolutely needed to. His left hand twitched to get closer to Irey.

"We still need to get to the School's terrain." Lian announced firmly, her Speedy domino-mask on her gloved fingers. She glanced at him a moment later, no doubt hurt for his preference of staying next to his brother instead of them.

It was basically one against three. They needed to count the odds and start thinking strategically—he was just leveling the ground to construct a bridge.

'_They'll thank me later.'_

"It's best to wait a couple of days before we try that—they'll probably be expecting someone to attack them again and be on the look-out. Better not take any chances with those guys." Milagro added with the right mind, having the other two nodding somewhat gloomily at the news.

Dick had no qualms with that, nonetheless, there was still the problem of their disastrous mission to be addressed.

"What, _exactly_, are you looking for in that place?" Night-Robin outright demanded like he had the right to, and was it really so bad to have asked him to greet the girls with more than his Alias—weren't their identities public knowledge anyway?

Irey frowned at the vigilante before sharing a look with the other two young women.

"S none of your concern."

Damian glared while Dick face-palmed in aggravation.

"_C'mon—_how's he supposed to help us if he doesn't know what this's about?" The carnie put with an edge, having Milagro crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him like a condescending big sister.

His was better—he shared a life with both Bruce and Alfred who were the masters of patronizing stares _and _glares for any and all purposes (like climbing up the chandeliers in the Mansion…).

"Let them be, far be it for them to see reason beyond their juvenile tantrums." The Gotham protector added without necessity, unmistakably irritated too with the look he was receiving from the military and turning her scold at him in the process.

"Stop behaving like that Robbie, it's not that simple." Lian stated, placing her hand over her waist, and seriously, they were giving him attitude? At the mimicking glances from the other two he frowned in firmness, the action now visible given the new masks Damian had provided for all of them—including Iris (who left hers in her small pouch if the need arose).

"How come?" The acrobat returned with the same annoyance. Fine, they wanted to play, he had enough to entertain them.

"Because it's not that easy. We don't know him, he doesn't know us. This is some delicate information and we need to treat it carefully, you understand no?" Milagro took it in herself to answer with mild tones that would placate any who didn't knew any better.

Dick just raised an eyebrow.

'_And here I was worrying my cover might've got blown.'_ At his left he could tell Damian feeling insulted too.

"Yeah, but Irey and Lian were the only ones who _knew _each other. How's that different?"

"It's—well," Milagro found herself at a loss on how to explain herself to him without sounding hypocritical, glancing at her comrades for help.

"Milagro _does _share family that knew ours—and we're all tied by the superheroes of the past." Iris placed when nothing had come-up from the other girls somewhat awkward and defeated.

Dick turned his head toward his brother, then to them, raising his hand to point at the Gotham protector who by some miracle was letting him handle things without adding fuel to the fire.

"But he's part of the Batman crew, and Batman knows_ everyone_ too—he's Batman." He explained calmly, waiting for a reasonable argument that could actually put Damian in a tight spot. At the three teenagers' silence he continued, "If he doesn't know us, and we don't know him we can just introduce ourselves." Dick smiled through his win, watching in amusement the deflated shoulders from the girls and the tension from the boy. Focused on getting to the real point he made a show to grab the taller male's hand, shaking it with enthusiasm. "I'm Robbie Malone," then he turned to the others, signaling to each one with happy tones. "that's Iris West, Flash's daughter—she also has a twin brother named Jai who couldn't come. She's Lian Harper, or Speedy—her dad was Red Arrow. And she's Milagro Reyes, Blue Beetle's sister." Then he nodded, satisfied with his role and waiting for Damian's part as he grumbled a little under his breath after one hand-squeeze.

"Night-Robin. Son of Batman." The little demon spoke arrogantly, undoubtedly hating his "diminished" speech capabilities. He'd told him in no uncertain terms that he hated seeing him acting like a child.

"Batman has many sons," Lian added crossing her arms over her chest with not much malice while the redhead nodded next to her, "and a daughter."

"Unlike father's three charity cases before me, I'm the legitimate offspring of the Wayne Heir—Damian Wayne." Damian bit out.

"Now that's just rude." Dick muttered under his breath for his brother alone to hear. Damian seemed to ignore him.

"Have the requirements to enclose the specifics of the Mission been filled yet or is more asinine chatter needed to fill your quota for the day?"

"Hey—nowIrememberyou." Iris spoke angrily. "You'rethelastRobin—the one that took Tim's place on Bart's team and had Uncle Dick so busy taking care of that he rarely had time to stop-by for a visit, letalonetakesome_rest_." The Meta let her words dash by the fierce emotion behind them. Of course they were understood for the most part, and the Romani saw the offended Wayne going face-to-face against the aggravated speedster, staring her down in contempt.

'_They need to stop going against each other on their own, I can't solve all their issues.' _Came the reasonable thought as he sat this one out, keeping his face off from the interchange as he sweep a scan towards their settings underneath the dark glasses._ 'Guess it's Show-time.' _He chanted, ears perked and eye pealed like during yesterday's fiasco.

"You'd do well to refrain from that accusation, West."

Green eyes were doubtful for a moment but the fierceness returned full force after the small hesitation from being on the receiving end of the white lenses.

"Make me."

"Haber, ya(1)." The second oldest of this new generation intervened in the aggressive outcome, glimpsing at him dubiously from the corner of her eye. "Guess that'll have to cover our 'getting to know each other' share for now. No need to make things nasty," then at Iris' pouting but retreating form, the military in-training upturned her transparent scowl towards the oldest of them, "listen, we're gonna try and make this work just because Robbie seems to think we might need you, but make no mistake—if your anger issues come to play again, you're out buddy. Hijo de (2) Batman or not."

Night-Robin didn't flinch; ever-present frown enough to pass by an answer.

If Dick knew his brother, he was just calculating his stab.

"How far did you three get before you had to flee for your lives?" And he wasn't disappointed at Damian's strike aimed way below the belt.

Lian turned her head to Iris in warning; apparently not in the mood the have any of them start another argument.

"Just below some stairs, and after a couple of sealed doors." The archer said properly.

He just waited, finding comical to a twisted extent how Damian wasn't interested anymore in inquiring about the purpose of the goal only to irritate the trio.

"Cameras." Night-Robin demanded.

"None seen. The place was pitch-dark too. We found an entrance on the Food Court, some wall had collapsed and there was a hole big enough for us to handle—though you'd have trouble getting in." Milagro reported, all business as Damian nodded, undoubtedly pinning him with that one. "It led straight to the added tunnels of the secret facility, we were barely passing another sealed door when the alarm broke. There weren't any cameras in sight or soldiers for that matter, so we're still figuring out what gave us in. We used to same route to escape, but once upstairs the enemies were already making their way towards us, so the exit was blocked." At that she furrowed her brows. "Speedy and Irey stood on the Intendentes (3) Closet waiting while I found another exit nearby to avoid the enemies' attacks. Once out we helped the Civilians that were under attack, and then found you in the process." The sixteen-year old finished her report ominously. Dick nodded, pleased to some degree on her lecture of what they encountered; not a single tale painting them greater than what they were—just what it was.

A disaster.

His sibling would be the one taking care of teaching them later.

"Time taken." Damian countered in the same manner.

"20 minutes or so." Lian answered while the other two confirmed the amount stated.

"-Tt-, I'll assume you've been in the city for a fair amount of time." The vigilante continued with Dick hiding a grin at the approach of the subject. It appeared Damian was done with the questions and was more than ready to list out the rookies' faults.

"Two days before yesterday." Iris said still sour from the previous spat.

"It took two days to find the School, and we waited until the third to make our move." Milagro continued wary of Night-Robin's intentions, practically daring him to find fault on their measures when Damian scoffed arrogantly at their reply.

"So you're warranting applause for your precautions. –Tt- ridiculous." Damian crossed his arms over his chest, leveling them a condescending stare. "You went blind to the enemy's territory; the result was no better than the one you got."

"Oh yeah? What would've you done instead? The tunnels are new—not like we would know what to expect from something that wasn't there in the first place." Iris countered annoyed.

"Blueprints." The raven-haired teenager said like the answer was painfully obvious. "The patent advantage is that all Public Constructions have a set of Blueprints on Public Libraries, if by case those were disposed, it doesn't take much to hack into their bases to get a clear imprint of the location's specifications, electricity available or not."

"Did you not hear her? The tunnels wouldn't _be _in the ma—" Lian defended her friend but Damian wasn't concerned.

"—**if** the original infrastructure is kept, the basis to add a new level—above or below—is needed to take into consideration; otherwise the compounds wouldn't be stable enough to support the Building and it would collapse above it. Sewer accesses, electrical outputs, fixed assets that form an entire network compound that determine whether a soft infrastructure could be placed underneath and of what possible natures; meaning openings, escape routes, blind spots, advantages on infiltration and demolition of the place if it is seen fit for at the time, which in turn gives a good hypothesis on the new constructed area." The tall male numbered with precision, making the circus prodigy swell with pride at the change of demeanor that used to be a quick scan of the place before charging inside guns-a-blazin'. Damian had done wonderfully in that aspect, and peering a look at the three stunned women he saw not one bit of antagonism.

'_Good.' _He thought showing his grin.

"…oh." Milagro uttered, nodding dazed in understanding. "And after—"

"—you memorize the landscape plans with all the aforementioned, making a route that involves the structures that are mandatory to remain stationary and get a precise investigation of the new grounds by covert recon." His brother listed unaffected. "Only _then _do we infiltrate completely to get what you three are so desperate to accomplish." Damian finished pristine—though the last jab was unnecessary by Dick's standards. Still, it did the job, so he turned towards the newly directed group to see a renewed determination on all their gazes.

They would try it, and perhaps none of the kids were actually keen enough to see it, but Damian had won the first battle against the girls' barriers by proving his place with them.

"Okay, we can look for that first while they calm down in the School." Lian decided, the others nodding enthusiastically at their new goal.

The first battle was always the hardest one, and both sides had come-up winning.

* * *

><p><em>-~ Second Week of June, 18:07hrs. Tibet, China (nine days later).<em>

He had taken four days to finish his investigations before making progress on Talia's whereabouts, after that, he'd informed Cass and Cass alone of his travel accommodations, and promptly got out of the Cave. Tim took only the utmost necessary to fulfill his journey, adding an extra vehicle on the back of their smaller Jet that was only used on emergencies, and taking an extra five days to arrive to the Tibet. Once nearby the area, he'd lowered the smaller Batwing, taking an all terrain-motorcycle that hadn't seen much in the last couple of years to keep his schedule in order at the same time he double-checked his settings in case something was amiss.

His Red Robin gear had been fully in place the moment he crossed the other continent, and the young man had taken foreboding by asking Cassandra to avoid any communications, since they never knew what Talia might been up to. His sister had confirmed his order, also offering some moral support with her kind-quiet self, saying she would be waiting for him back at the Cave with Alfred, and giving him one of their most valuable contraptions from Lucius': an updated minuscule-transporter that would carry him to the safety of one of their Bases in Romania, where the brilliant Businessman still operated their more underground bases.

Tim had nodded at the gesture, understanding it for what it meant and grateful for it. Though he wouldn't admit it, Steph's changing demeanor had wounded him deeply; at that time he had only conceded their General's disposal towards the Homunculus for self-preservation—the man had been on the verge of breaking out of his composed state for unknown reasons, and Tim had just wanted to bypass the increased tempo at his friend's continuous references of a seemingly sore subject.

A frown marred his usually stoic face, recalling the steadfast decision from Batgirl to keep herself either by Cass' side (not unusual in the least), in addition to _even_ staying on Jason's proximity if he and his predecessor shared the same space. Whilst the Red Hood barely spat a word to her, it did nothing to impede the blonde's efforts into getting in the area neighboring the Vengeful Vigilante, nor in making his lonesomeness the more palpable. So ultimately, he had decided to do his work, feeling satisfaction from putting a halt to his investigation once he had something to proceed.

The fourth Wayne composed his head of his dwellings, noting with interest the good weather at this time of the year on the land (4). No monsoons were seen anywhere since four years ago—the climate suffering for so much toxins spread on the environment changing the ecosystem systematically for the worst. In all fairness, it was a pleasant change to see the exotic land maintaining some vitality to it. It helped him focus on the matter at hand and leave his pondering for later, when he had a valid reason to excuse Steph's feelings towards him.

Tim had no fault on Damian's lack of foreboding that probably had put him on a tight-spot with Bruce.

If anything, it served him right to an extent; none of them were kids anymore, regardless of the woman's comment on the Demon being an adolescent as an excuse. They were adults in the field, in this world—none of them had their age to back-them up to exempt their misbehavior nor poor calls.

And while he was at it, he also couldn't help how he felt regarding the blonde woman. Tim was a genius, and it didn't take more than a brain-cell to see the longing in those blue eyes that up until nine days ago used to look into his direction with care instead of aching betrayal. He cared for the woman—had loved her once too, but that was one too many years and scars ago.

One light halted his centered thoughts, deviating him to his assignment promptly, taking the new route from his computer's schematics to get nearby the old entrance that was there the last time he'd been in the place (5). If Talia was smart (understatement), she would have the same access blocked, but the prints were only movable to an extent, and the grounds had only so much that they could change, enough for him to find an entrance point in the first five possible places he deduced were the most probable from his previous visits and its entailments.

Red Robin needed to get a few meters from the place, closing into the appointed spot by foot and hacking into the closest mainframe in the vicinity that he was sure belonged to the current Head of the League of Assassins. It took time to get their frequency, but Tim wasn't the best on cracking systems for nothing, taking only some minutes to locate the signal from other working computers to diligently set into motion to hack them. It took time he wasn't interested in keeping, since once he found his subject, he replaced the camera's viewpoints for one of the day before at the same time, figuring guards would notice him slipping-by if they got access of him. Once he nullified all the cameras hidden and otherwise, he set-up to block the motion sensors on his arrival, already with some good perspectives of the new planes of the Assassins' Base of Operations now that he had all (or most) of the cameras at his dispositions, storing the data for later use, and making his way inside once he found his key objective:

Their Main Computer.

Now he only needed to get inside, and with a path decided and everything settled he went-in. Talia wasn't in the area from his throughout search, however, it did nothing to tamper his task.

His objective was clear: get in, get out, and get back.

* * *

><p><em>-~19:46hrs, Hidden Base underneath Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Mu<em>_seum, Glasgow, Scotland._

"_Oracle to Batwoman and Squire," _The gauntlet of the fiery-headed woman blinked in alert, making her and her companion direct their attention to their appointed Leader in Charge.

"Batwoman and Squire here," Kate answered without the cowl, already searching for it while Beryl finished her long-braid after taking her green boots off; they had recently come-back to their base after a successful operation of stealing some equipment from the Empire forces on various parts of England, where Leviathan had a more precise control than here in Scotland, and had been resting for their next step to take from their Commandeer when the older woman saw so fit.

"An' ready to duty!" Beryl added on her part, not making it a secret on how much she enjoyed being useful to the woman on the other line; it only made Kate smirk in approval at the young woman's sense of justice, despite their losses over time. The dark blonde had taken a deep blow when Stephanie abandoned their side to go to back to Gotham after years with them, and while Kate herself respected the Batgirl's decision to go where she thought she was needed the most, and didn't had ill feelings towards her, she was a little offended by not having a heads-up on that department, same as her partner. That said, it felt good to see Beryl on such high spirits, more so after Cyril had disappeared on his incognito almost a month ago now.

Dead by their standards; only none of them were acutely intent in naming their comrade deceased to their forces.

"_Good to know. Now, I hate to cut short your well-deserved break, but someone has been attacking our Mainframe for the last five hours." _Barbara spoke with an underlying annoyance on her tone that had Kate worried, sharing a look with the younger woman who seemed as displeased by the news; the other redhead continued, "_I finally managed to get through their origin point, so I need you girls to check it out while I deal with the residual damage and bring-out the culprit."_

"Count on it Oracle, that poor Blighter won't know what hit 'im!" Squire answered for both of them, already on her feet ready for the go.

"_That's what I like to hear. I'll send you the coordinates right away." _ A pause, and Kate straightened her back at the sudden tense air that came from Barbara on the other side, reading herself for the impact. _"Be careful girls; the origin point is Paris."_

Both women went rigid. Paris wasn't in their radars since the beginning of the War; the place was too chaotic and Bilal,…

"We will." Kate answered, making it a priority to let the other woman discern her seriousness in the matter.

"_That's what I like to hear. Oracle out."_

"… well, bugger." Beryl stated after a minute in silence leading a sigh from the oldest.

''_Bugger' indeed,…'._

* * *

><p><em>-~ 19:59hrs. Main Computer Salon, Secret Base of the League of Shadows, Tibet, China.<em>

Getting himself inside hadn't been easy, then again, nothing regarding the al Ghul's ever was.

His hidden blues returned to the tape he'd left for the security cameras on the room he was occupying, paranoid with sound reason of getting himself caught after the two guards who roamed the place decorated his feet in an induced slumber. Nothing was amiss so far, so he kept his fast pace on the keyboards of the large computer, taking one-too-many minutes more than what was mandatory to find a heavily encrypted file that could aid them of Talia's sudden moves, and sending it to his own computer by the cable attaching his equipment to the bigger one.

It was getting harder and harder to bypass the need to roam the other archive he'd discovered so far instead of just making copies of them for future investigation, but a voice in his head reminded Tim that every moment was vital, and couldn't be wasted. So far he hadn't been doing a great job on his Mission if he'd barely managed to get a couple of indecipherable scraps that were still downloading to his system.

'_94 percent, 67 percent,…' _Red Robin kept counting with thin patience; both numbers alight on his wrist as he searched through the net without victory in the nearby vicinity. _'97 percent,… 68 percent—c'mon—what the…?' _he thought as the screen on the Assassin's Computer went black, pausing the raven's research; the meaning behind the action clear:

He'd been caught.

As per wanting to reassert his conclusion, Talia's face made an appearance after a sequence of green codes had lit the screen momentarily; her appearance showing no surprise at his whereabouts.

"_Ah, Timothy, it's been quite long since we've crossed paths." _Her voice came somewhat frizzled—an implication she wasn't anywhere nearby.

Good news at least.

"Talia," the pale man acknowledged, ceasing his actions once he discovered the whole Mainframe had been shut down by the Daughter of the Demon, "seems like it was long enough for you to make your move."

"_I hardly consider you'd be aware of such accusation, for it would involve my Beloved here in your place instead. You have no grounds to endorse your vague accusations." _The brunette answered dully.

"We saw you with Diana barely a month ago in New York, and we intercepted some agent of yours in California along those dates. What are you planning Talia?" The vigilante asked just as frigid, his brilliant mind echoing that the Assassin wanted something out of Damian yet again only to hear her laugh condescendingly at his demand.

"_It seems that though the years have passed you continue lacking the same assets that make you unsuitable to replace my Heir, or my Beloved's for that matter."_ She replied amused at his regard and he crossed his arms; ready to make his leave should he be ambushed. _"It's what makes you weak; where you excel in intelligence you lack in handiness—the means of adaptation. A deficiency of cunning that removes you from being grand; soiled by pitiful emotions roused from self-doubt. Pathetic."_

"I'm not interested in being your Heir. And you're wasting your time in waiting for Damian." Tim added monotonous, not offended in the slightest. "He's nowhere near prepared by your standards" _'—unrealistic as they are,—' _"to do your bidding, and I can assure you we will stop you—no matter what." Knowing he would get nowhere else with the woman, he was about to turn and make his leave when the sudden upturn of her lips distraught his attention; a slow cruel smile forming part of her visage as she studied him with eyes that spoke of all her previous words being reasserted.

It made him weary.

"_Not a moment later do you compel in attesting true to my words. Though Damian remains my son and you have no word over what it is his duty, he's contaminated further than his worth; unsalvageable. I've no need of such imperfections your kin has molded unto him. Instead, in the true force behind the League of Shadows who will finally rise to the Post." _The woman lectured him, not mincing her words against her own flesh.

His jaw constricted; a sudden ire mounting on the pit of his stomach from her cruel words.

"'_Imperfections'_ aside, Damian deserves better. You should take a look at yourself before passing judgment." Red Robin scolded the al Ghul, utterly disgusted at her treatment of the adolescent. "I warn you Talia—**stay away **from Damian and Cassandra." He continued, catching-on the meaning behind her motive to leave the place. "Next time you or any of yours get _near _them I'll personally take care of you." Tim finished, his index tapping a button on his gauntlet that shut the entire power on a 65mt. radio on his location, and escaping with Lucius' contraption at an instant's pace.

He shouldn't have shut everything down so abruptly to make his escape, probably because he could have gotten more out of the interchange, but the bile stirring from her unforgiving words towards his (though _very_ irritating) brother couldn't be quelled. Damian wasn't the most proficient of their crew, he _knew_ that, but he was still theirs, and Tim would be damned to let the older Assassin diminish one of his own. As he was transported to his cycle heading towards the Jet, his only regret persistent on his head was missing Talia's sour expression after his counter.

* * *

><p><em>-~20:26hrs. Undefined Alley, Old-Paris, France.<em>

"The signal point should be around this perimeter, it's as far as Oracle could get us." Batwoman read to her companion, frowning at the demolished yet disturbingly empty streets. "Watch your step."

"Right ho," Squire answered her, apparently thinking the same of their deserted whereabouts.

Over the first year of the War they were completely cut-off from any type of communications in many of their fronts—Paris had been one of the first ones on losing the connection with them. Oracle had sent a team of G.I. Robots in those hard times to solve the issue, but they never came back; internal situations as they were, with all the civilians loses and basically the world plummeting down on them, Barbara had left the issue on-hold. So here they were; almost seven years now returning to one of the few places they knew nothing about.

They worked efficiently, too used to have each-other's backs to know where the other one was moving towards, and what to leave at the last when the attack came.

The fight was brief—that is 'nonexistent', because by the time she and Squire had noticed movement in the dead streets, the sleeping agents aimed at their necks were already showing their effects, and the older fiery-redhead was unable to do a thing as her companion's body plummeted to the floor where she was already sprawled; masked eyes catching sight of some indistinguishable shadows when all went black.

* * *

><p>"<em>Batwoman—psst! Wake up,<em>" an insistent murmur on her right repeated itself as Kate fought her way out of unconsciousness to find a preoccupied Beryl sitting all tied-up against a concrete wall. Shaking her head to rid herself of the drowsiness that accompanied the drug, she attempted to right herself up in a similar position of her comrade; the bindings were mere ropes, but the woman easily felt the dirt against her fingertips, watching some glee appearing on her equally disheveled friend.

"_Good to see ya up an' about lass," _Squire whispered to her, and Kate offered a tentative smirk in return.

"_How long?" _She asked the blonde as she eyed their accommodations. Obvious to say, none of them had their belts, shoe-wear, or gloves on—but their head-gear remained the same; it didn't make any sense. Once retracted against the wall, she attempted to find her hidden batarangs with a puff of defeated air.

Gone.

"_Not five," _Beryl answered and Kate's frown increased. _"Bad show." _She continued, moving her weaponless hands in demonstration, at which the redhead nodded.

"_Anyone?" _Kate asked, unsure about how to feel about their whereabouts when the other woman shook her head in response. _"Seems like an apartment of sorts." _The woman continued, trying her hardest to find something that would get them out.

"_Aye, noticed some heavy ammo though," _The young vigilante added with badly concealed glee, signaling some shelves that had something that resembled powder in the poorly-lit squared room, right-up to the farthest corner.

"… _seriously…?" _Batwoman pointed dubiously, vaguely motioning their ropes (professionally tied, and restricting their limbs from moving altogether) that had them limited from stirring too far into the room unless time was on their side. Nothing was amiss in the small space, save for that gunpowder that they could use to their advantage if by some miracle their captors (whoever they were) took their time to return and do whatever they wanted with them.

She didn't know. Too many enemies to actually tell.

It did, however made Kate question if these were the same people who had the City under control.

"_We only need to squirm against each other and help undo our bonds, take the powder, set in some explosive and Bob's your Uncle!~" _Beryl said as if it was only that simple.

Kate remained unmoved.

"_Où sont-ils? (_6)_" _Kate and Beryl listened one of their captors just outside their lodgings. Sharing a look they remained quiet, waiting for them to make a move and take advantage of it.

"_Dans l'antichambre.(_7)_"_

"_Savent-ils quelque chose? (_8)_"_

"_Non."_

"_Bien. Apporte-less. (_9)_" _A pause, which meant to Kate meant the other one to 'bring them' had agreed silently to the request. Probably—their voices were too muffled and her French was too rusty. _"Aie un soin. Elles sont dangereuses._(10)_"_

"_Bien sûr." _Footsteps—ones getting farther and others getting near them. A nudge to Beryl and the older female knew her partner was aware of their means to take when the door opened, showing a tall-lean male covered from head to foot in Empire's paraphernalia.

'_That solves who we're against.' _She thought, glaring at the male who blindfolded both of them. Another set of footsteps approached, and she felt some anticipation on the pit of her stomach, hoping Beryl would remain docile on their captors. While their situation was less than desired, their Mission was still on, and if the Empire had now gained access to their database, they couldn't run back. Suddenly feeling a set of hands against her middle, Kate let out a rough patch of air when her bonds were reinforced, immediately being hauled to her captor's shoulder and distinctively hearing Beryl heave an intake of air too.

Unable to do more than play the part of being completely at their mercy, she counted the steps her carrier (and Beryl's) were taking, hoping to eventually return to the room once they were free to search for their weapons or any information available to them.

It took them at the very least half an hour and many sets of stairs when Kate found herself on her knees against some rough surface (asphalt?), a warm body forced on her right and colliding against hers assured her Beryl was with her still.

"Merci. Peuvent partir.(11)" The same voice from before added, and waited until nothing more was heard but the gusts of wind stirring their locks and capes. "Been a long time, Kate, Beryl." He said as Batwoman felt the blindfold falling from her eyes, finding the familiar face of Bilal Asselah underneath the enemy's colors.

"Cor, blimey! Bilal?!" Squire squeaked in astonishment.

"Mm, oh, you can stop pretendin' your bonds aren't loose now." The grown man replied, a hint of amusement on his thick accent. Kate stood up then (having finished with untangling her bonds a couple of minutes ago), freeing her hands to lower herself on her knees to work on her lower limbs imprisonment whilst the handy Squire continued to gape openly at their previous ally.

"What's going on Bilal? We thought you were dead years ago!"

"You'd be the only ones. The others know full well I'm not." Bilal answered with a bite that had the chipper female widening her lenses. The parkour-resident paid her no mind, instead pointing behind him to some roads. Kate, now free of her bonds and instructing the younger one to copy her actions, watched unsatisfactorily, how the road mentioned was towards some dry-land. "You two can get out of France in some days if you keep going straight." When he saw the younger of them was about to protest the statement he glared at them. "France is out of your jurisdiction—I'm handling things in here my way."

"Sure seems like it." Batwoman answered crossed; arms defensively over her chest. "Where are our things?"

"Some kilometers ahead, under a well by the road. You'll find them easily."

At the indignant sound of her companion, Kate halted her with a hand on her way; Beryl taking heed to the order and keeping shut.

"There was an infiltration on our Mainframe; it came from Paris." She demanded matter of fact.

Bilal shrugged, completely unperturbed by the news.

"I'm aware of it—it was our station the one that crashed." A shrug. "The security system hadn't been updated in emergency calls, that's why it tried to get to Oracle's and why she identified it as a bug. We didn't part on the best terms you know." The former known 'Nightrunner' answered unabashed. "So there. C'est tout."

It wasn't enough for her, but their host didn't seem keen to keep their status as guests, and they needed to talk with Barbara about this. Kate hadn't known about what Bilal was implying and it was troubling for her, so she nodded, motioning the other female to leave it for the time being (they would discuss it further later, once Barbara answered some things for them).

"Fine. Next time you could simply say it. The whole thing was unnecessary."

"Ah—right, then you should know beforehand that anything that comes from here stays here. None of you are allowed anywhere near France." The hardened man glared at them, making the older woman wonder what had happened with the Bilal she used to know. "Here," he said less gruff, throwing her a small chip that she successfully seized, "just, be prepared,… you may not understand at first, but it'll come with my next message later, just…" he sighed dejectedly, providing them with a glimpse of the man they used to call an ally, "… don't take it too personally. That's the best advice I can give you about it. Now please leave and don't come back, next time you might not be so lucky." Bilal finished in the same manner, leaving himself first on the opposite direction.

"… now what?" Squire asked her without her previous optimism. It reminded Kate of how she used to look-up the French man before.

"We leave—for now." Batwoman said with a strong voice. They needed to inspect whatever Bilal had handed them and they couldn't very well do it without their gauntlets.

Squire nodded, keeping her pace next to the woman and grimacing a little at the pebbles she stepped-on (both of them bare-feet as they were).

"What about what he gave us?"

Kate hurried her step.

"We crack it, then report to Oracle and demand some answers."

* * *

><p>(1) "Alright, enough." Literally its "To have (to), nowenough". The word 'haber' has one-too _many _variations and uses in Spanish, hence why there's just an equal amount of meanings that can be given, in this context, (at least here in Mexico), its usually used in the same manner when trying to end a dispute, or find a conclusion to something—like rounding things-up to summarize the whole point, or patronize to halt said discussion/theme or even aggression. Thus, it always comes (when in this specific context) like an imperative word ('cause it's basically a command to quiet things). Incidentally, it's the same pronunciation as saying "A ver" which means "to/let's see/watch."

(2) "Son of […]"

(3) "Concergies […]"

(4) According to the weather, says that its usually around 17 °C with days warm and nights cold. Lovely, really.

(5) Reference to the Arc 'The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul'. Ra's had a base in there where he wanted to fuse his body to Damian's to keep-on living. All batboys minus Jason and Cass joined the fight alongside Bruce, Talia and Alfred to stop Ra's from using Damian's body as a vessel for him. There's also a Lazarus Pit in there. Ultimately, they go to Nanda Parbat where there's some fountain somewhat like the Pit that will help Ra's better and fight it off. Ra's takes the body of one son of his who he thought was deficient named 'The White Ghost' and thereby lived-on-until Bruce punished him for placing himself in Gotham so it angers Bruce (bad move) and he ends-up defeating Ra's ninjas, Ra's himself, and placing him under heavy medications (so to have slurry speech and no movement) and another identity of a criminal to avoid him being danger. He also gets a map of every Lazarus Pit in the World.

(6) "Where are they?" (Poorly kept French + online translator).

(7) "In the waiting room."

(8) "Do they know anyting?"

(9) "Good. Bring them."

(10) "Be careful. They're dangerous."

(11) "Thank you. You can leave."


	19. Trusting the Chessmen: Check

_**Author's Notes: **__Finally we are getting into something. Not a variation in characters or setting in this one, and I want to state that there's nothing canon about the implications in here, but that's why it's my Story. There is something that had been building up from many chapters before (Chapter XII.- The Secret of Gotham City's Inmates. Part II), so kudos if you start connecting the dots. That said, its directly to the point—kinda—so it's not really long._

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

_**Summary:**__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot._

_**Eventual Pairings: **__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**__ Foul language._

_Tuesday, February 19th, 2013 __**Words:**__ 5,062_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XIX.- Trusting the Chessmen: Check._

_~-01:47am. Bookstore nearby Lafayette, Old-California (one week later, mid-June)._

"Okay, we're ready to go." The Harper girl said decisively towards both him and his brother, who were exchanging some quick words under the pretense of some trivial chatter to the hopeless trio. About to heed his automatic answer that would differ otherwise, Damian halted; the Wayne could feel the burning gaze of the small aerialist's warning, so instead he was forced to nod his understanding to the Harper girl that had insisted on keeping the pretense that red costume bestowed.

"Head towards the first checkpoint, and do not break formation." He ordered, not missing the infantile glare the female resisted on throwing at him before moving to do as he had commanded, about to leave him alone with his brother.

"Take care Speedy," the tall young man heard his big brother mutter wistfully towards Harper who stopped on her tracks to provide him a smile in exchange; the other two irritating females standing nearby the self-proclaimed archer as if they had a reason to belong where they stood (Damian resisted the urge to scoff at that; that girl was nowhere near the standards of Dick's incorrigible redheaded friend), and it churned his insides with something akin to jealousy (though it was certainly not) the utter adoration behind his partner's longing words, "Milagro, and Kid Flash—good luck!" Dick finished, aiming them a giant grin and waving them enthusiastically, as everyone very obviously overlooked the tension on the Metahuman's puny shoulders.

Night-Robin strengthened his gaze enough to command them to remove themselves and begin their path; it was only due to his unmistakable Leadership that the three young women went outside without further input. They've all perceived the subsequent stiffness upon the West girl in the past days whenever they'd caught his brother calling the speedster the name of her Sire—these were no news to keep on warranting such reserve; if West had no idealisms like her current little friend on stepping on her father's position, she only had to establish so. His sibling would take no offense on the matter.

Those females underestimated Dick too much; regardless if he were a child by nature alone, one could not be considered dense to such degree where he would bypass the tremble on the Meta's shoulders whenever he uttered his fleeting reference.

As far as observational skills went those unprepared teens had none.

"You take care of them Damian," the bird caught his attention with earnest tranquility after a wait of a couple of minutes had passed—something he and Dick always abided-by in case some of the females felt the feeble need to overhear their private conversations, "and don't take any unnecessary measures."

"I assure you the Operation will be completed smoothly, do not worry." He answered regally, crossing his arms over his chest. "I take it you won't accompany us this time."

"Nope, you guys are on your own," Dick told him, the glasses long-gone, "this is your Mission, Damian—yours and the girls; I think I can trust my former partner with this, can't I?" Amusement came in the infantile voice, and though the youngest Wayne had had more than time enough to get used to the sound, he knew it would never feel correct.

His priorities were simple: finish the Task that seemed far too important for the incompetent buffoons playing superhero as soon as possible and then return to Gotham. His father hadn't attempted to contact him, and whilst that proved his Sire had confidence in his higher abilities, Damian continued to hold a responsibility to his General and arrival victorious side-by-side with his brother.

"It would have been simpler to let me do it at once from the very beginning, Dick." A scoff, "It's unfathomable why you insist on having those inept females attempt something of this magnitude." He told the other male who only grinned at his way, and it reminded him how it had occupied every ounce of patience he'd honed to take the naïve adolescents a _sliver_ to his level of training. Hours, and hours upon day-in and night-out together to attribute at least the utmost necessary knowledge to have them "ready" for the assignment—and yet, Damian remained doubtful of their performance. He'd been generous enough to inform them he'd do it alone in a single day to avoid such pointless chagrin on their part, only to receive negative feedback.

"By the way, I've got something for ya," the Romani told him as he rummaged through the pockets of his faded jeans, "here—catch!" he said, and Damian found himself with a very small woven bag.

"Before you open it though, you should seriously reconsider asking them what they're looking for, Damian," his former partner interrupted him; stopping him immediately on the action.

He scoffed.

"They're adamant out of spiteful tantrums, besides I've got no need to ask what I'm about to accomplish by action." Damian answered, finding troubling the look his brother was giving him. "What is it?" He asked instead, trusting his mentor would tell him.

"It's your ticket for hitting the Jackpot." Dick answered him without actually doing so, before taking a pause. "Listen kiddo, you're about to lead those girls into something big—hell, you've spent days helping them with their training, and getting to know them," his brother continued, frowning, "it'd be good to see you have some faith in them—you might be surprised; they respect you enough to answer you if you'd just asked them with the same amount of respect in exchange."

"I find that doubtful—" He started saying before a sigh from the first Robin silenced him on his tracks.

"_Damian,_ this whole thing is not going to work-out if you don't have faith in people." Dick stated, and the lump on his throat was unexpected at best.

"Faith has nothing to do with this—I will let them accompany and show them how it is done, regardless of their disposition towards me—"

"—and then what? Tell me, Damian, what are you expecting to get out of this then, huh? Return to Gotham victorious after proving them you could do the whole thing by-yourself out of spite just to show them they're not cut-out to do their part on protecting their own in this world?"

The tall raven kept himself quiet; unsure of what to say and where he stood in this predicament. His predecessor seemed off-put by his lack of answer, and Damian understood that was answer enough to be on the receiver of that off-put expression.

"We've all got the same right to fight, Damian. You being more prepared than most isn't something that makes you better than other people—just luckier. And that position comes with certain duties that you decided to answer."

"What are you trying to say, _Grayson?"_ He asked with gritted teeth at the unexpected scolding he did not deserve. His brother motioned with his hands, undoubtedly bypassing his unfairness with the topic at hand.

"I want you to see the greater picture for just a moment kiddo," The Romani continued, "tell me, what are you going to do when things are finally on our side—when Leviathan is no longer in charge of the major part of the Global Population?"

That took Damian by surprise, and he furrowed his brows at the odd question; shouldn't it be obvious?

"We will rebuild—restore Gotham and regain our place." He said, but there was a lingering doubt behind his words. A glance at the Circus Prodigy was all he needed to reassert his brother had pinpointed that flagrant doubt for what it was: and just now was he realizing he couldn't recall a single-time where he had thought about what he would do once the Enemy was defeated.

He'd just been focused on destroying—getting even.

"And what do we need for that, Damian?" His partner offered in warm-patient tones, "What I'm trying to say is that if you can't trust people can try and do their part, then why you are even bothering?" Dick signaled to the woven bag that lay in his fist, and he was too tense to say anything else. "Those right there are baby-steps; all I'm saying is you should give them another shot. It's your World to rebuild, kiddo."

"…you're leaving,…" Damian spoke, forcing the words out of his mouth once the understanding behind his brother's antics dwelled on him. The man trapped in the form of a small boy nodded once; a resolution Damian was sure he would not be able to break, no matter his offerings.

"There are more things that need to be taken care off," his sibling spoke, urging him to understand, "and I know you'll be okay now. The stage is yours, Damian—though I am sorry I can't stay more and enjoy your performance,"

The Night vigilante swallowed hard; a stiff nod conveying what he couldn't trust his voice with.

"What about Father?"

A one-shoulder shrug from the other male. "That's up to you, actually." The youngest Wayne Heir's eyes widened a bit, and his sibling grinned. "You're free to report whatever you want, kiddo. Plus, I'll be on the lookout for you—you're not off of adult supervision yet." At his stunned silence his brother rummaged victoriously through his other pocket, showing him a small mic. that he knew used to be on the Batwing days back.

"You planned this from the very beginning…" Damian accused him without flare, and the grin widened enough that the teenager was forced to shake his head and hide all those confusing emotions resurfacing from within. "…tell me Grayson, what was your plan after I returned to Gotham and got rid of those flamboyant females?"

"Tsk-tsk, you're getting ahead of today's lessons, kiddo." An extravagant grin, "I'm sure you'll figure it out once they tell you what they're after, you're not Batman's Partner for nothing." Dick told him, and Damian just decided on accepting it; the acrobat wasn't going to let loose anything he didn't wanted to, and he was more than curious on this new knowledge surrounding his brother and the ways with which he apparently managed to place all of them in this place at his time (besides, he needed to have some moments to readjust himself; Dick had prodded on certain things too close to his comfort area that needed his utmost attention). Someone had to be giving him information, and though he wasn't pleased at being played-with, and least of all having his big brother out of sight again, the biological Wayne could at any rate make contact whenever he pleased with the Romani (a privilege that was controlling the ache on his chest at being abandoned and scolded at the same time).

All in all, and everything to be put aside later for further introspection, Dick was trusting _him _with something far-greater than he was letting-on, and Damian Wayne was going to answer and excel those expectations.

That _trust._

"By the way, I left the girls—and you—a note about my absence." A shrug. "That'll have to be enough."

"…a note?" He scoffed, "Very well, those simpletons can do as they wish in any case." He turned, about to make his leave before throwing a look over his shoulder. "So this is farewell,"

"For now, I'll come-back, little D'." Dick assured him, and he believed him, no matter how constricted on the inside. "Take care, and stay in-touch."

"Of course, I'll expect news from you shortly, it does apply to you as well." He said, placing again his domino-mask on and walking ahead. By the time he aimed a second look behind him, the first Robin was gone.

Oddly enough, Damian didn't felt as alone as he thought.

He had a Mission to achieve; his green glove clasped on the small bag that brought all those wrecking thoughts ahead, and with no more further hesitation he stored it in one of his belt's compartments.

Damian had no trust on people—but he had on his brother, and it was enough.

* * *

><p><em>-~ 02:19am, Checkpoint 'A', outside Acalanes High School, Lafayette, Old-California.<em>

"Dude, whattookyousolong? Weren't you the one saying 'timewaseverything' and what-not?" Irey asked on her left side to the approaching Night-Robin, and Milagro resisted the urge to smack her silly.

Speedy did a good job on her behalf.

"_Hey!"_

"_Irey—we had a deal_." The red archer whispered to her friend, and the oldest girl decided to stay out of their private conversations. The two young women had the advantage of a close comradeship that neither her, nor the stiff-upper-lip male had, and the latina wasn't going to tread into waters when they were already being regulated.

"We're set—the perimeter hasn't changed; on your word." She stated, body tense and ready for action. This whole thing had had her in almost a jittery mess—which she would be if it weren't for the constant voices of her instructors scolding her in her ear and the relieving presence of the two other women. Oddly enough, the Gotham protector hadn't even reacted to Iris' antagonism.

Her eyebrows drew together; the abnormality of the situation peaking her interest enough to risk asking the arrogant teenager if he was alright.

It wasn't like she wanted to risk having their 'Ace' screwing this out of her pride.

"Oye(1), is there something bothering you?" She asked, and the whispering of her two friends ceased. A quick peek to her right told her they noted the steady gaze of those white lenses on them—almost like he was deciding if they were planning something against him or if they were worth the trouble of whatever plagued his mind.

It made her recall the small talks the three had had in regards of the masked hero whenever he and Robbie (who kept stuck on him like glue) went on strolls for whatever reason.

Something that made her feel a little guilty.

And now he was here just… _staring _at them like that… it was too unnerving.

"Um, you did said their rounds will chan—"

"What is the Objective?" He interrupted Irey, and Milagro felt her heart slow a fraction at his request—yes, _request, _not _demand_.

"Pardon?" Speedy asked confused in her place, side glancing her before she said it. The military-in-training risked a look to Irey, and found the same answer behind those confused vivid-green eyes:

Their interloper wasn't being himself, and all in all, it was her call (truth be told, she had expected no less from her new friends, and they've even discussed the possibility of being honest with the Member of the Batcrew).

"The reason you three are the ones attempting to intrude on the Enemy's Base. What is it?" Milagro heard him reply as civil as they've heard him—if a bit testy, but she had expected less.

"I thought you didn't care anymore about it, what's with the change of heart?" She asked, the other two obediently behind her—still not breaking the formation the oldest had taught them. A moment of silence was answer enough, and she had known from the very beginning of her response that he wasn't going to ask again, nor explain himself further.

In all truth, his whole demeanor bothered her more than she usually let on. His was the sum of all things she just plain didn't like in people—arrogant, rude, patronizing, cold,… there hadn't been a single occasion since Robbie had the awful idea of making the Veteran fighter join them that she could remember finding the guy approachable; what with all his degrading words and thinking himself the King of the World.

If it was completely up to her, they wouldn't have put-up with his attitude problems at all (she really could do without his infuriating comments about her weaponry preferences for example), but the situation just wasn't. Things stopped being ideal a long time ago, and yes, 'Night-Robin' had an enormous set of flaws, but she honestly doubted the three of them could have actually accomplished this as quickly or efficiently as she believed they would without his help in the run. Besides, not once had he done something that was against their benefit, well, after ignoring his horrible habit of demanding things that didn't make enough sense until he finally conceded a reasonable explanation that is.

…that had to count for something right? Her mind produced the image of Robbie, and she shook her head slightly, eyeing intensely the taller male who remained unmovable on his disposition; clearly waiting for an answer or the denial of one.

"They're keeping a 'war relic'," she started, praying to keep her stress from showing too much, and thankfully nobody added anything; the oldest teen staring at her patiently.

"Proceed." He granted, and a sigh almost escaped her lips at the lack of antipathy.

They could do this.

…in the end, what good would it be if they couldn't trust each other? The kid they've all been protecting had a strong point.

* * *

><p><em>-~ 02:44am Someplace inside the Underground Facility of Acalanes High School, Lafayette, Old-California.<em>

Seventeen minutes and forty-nine seconds had passed since they began their infiltration, and according to his calculations, the time to retreat was approximately in three to five minutes with a thirty-four seconds window to spare; so far everything had run accordingly, despite the presence of the amateur females' trailing obediently behind him on the vents system.

His glare hardened at a noise and he stopped abruptly, holding out a hand to indicate the eradication of movement, then went immediately to his computer, tapping efficiently at the keyboard while ignoring the three sets of orbs on his back. The vent system was slightly uncomfortable, given his continuous growth, but his former partner had been a Master at contortionism, and Damian had learned to pick up a thing or two about folding and stretching his limbs appropriately, though it did nothing to lessen his hidden discomfort.

It was inconsequential after all; the new set of priorities having been rearranged from his former ones, as he deftly broke and replaced the signals that were scanning the entire Base as part of their regulations to avoid being captured. It required his whole attention, and the females' full cooperation in remaining unmoving, which so far they've been complying to. A few seconds later he was clear, outsmarting their Enemy and closing his device to keep up his trail unto the room where he knew the Enemy stored their prize.

'_Imbeciles,' _Night-Robin couldn't help cursing at them once anew, _'they should have told me from the very beginning what was the objective in pursue. We would be in Gotham planning the next step by now.'_ He finished sour at their expense, immersing himself in another turn, to halt for a brief span, removing a contraption from his belt to place it on the juncture of the air conditioning, turning it on with a mute light signaling its functioning and keeping on.

None of the amateurs had questioned him about repeating such process on the whole duration of their travel, and they've done right in abstaining themselves from further aggravating him; the Wayne Vigilante was already on the limit of his patience with those three imbeciles.

His squared jaw constricted, not preoccupied in the slightest about keeping his pace; the task at hand was too important to dismiss out of begrudge, and his keen mind was able to multitask his annoyance towards the pathetic trio, and the Objective at hand.

The Son of Batman had established seven possible routes that were the most probable in holding the Main Arteries (computer centrals, planning rooms,…) of the small underground facility beforehand on their covert work, and had had the feeble females study them in their training breaks with no exception. However, after their earlier revelation, he'd dismissed six out of those seven routes, throughout convinced they wouldn't find their 'Jackpot' on any of them, but on a direct room that shared a hall from that seventh point. When they asked why, he almost didn't offer a reply; he had been too irritated towards their unnecessary secrecy out of contempt, but he'd controlled himself and answered it had to do with the power levels used on that sector on the compound on point three (the route they were taking, with certain alterations he was the only one to distinguish). Silently they agreed with his brief explanation and began their drive, but Damian's mind hadn't stopped for a moment, already replacing their countermeasures once they've gotten out, and forgoing his initial plan that demonstrated his proficiency far more than the elusive method they were forced to take.

He'd told them in no uncertain terms they were lucky to have the opportunity renewed, given they didn't actually _made it _to the secret compound, but to what used to be the storage for the Educational System's materials and such amenities.

They had been lucky, because had they been completely spotted (and here they needed to thank his brother's thoughtfulness at all the blind spots and lack of camera's in their vicinity), their prize would have been immediately relocated.

Nothing had been said in regards to his comment, and rightfully so.

Another turn, and another contraption later, Night-Robin knew they were nearby their Objective. His mind had considered the next step: let them wait for him until he found their weapon and returned victorious and unheard,

…or let them accompany him and possibly endanger the Mission.

"_Those right there are baby-steps; all I'm saying is you should give them another shot. It's your World to rebuild, kiddo." _Dick's voice came to his mind, and a frown accompanied him.

His brother had been right on the nature of their Assignment; and the reply he would be given if he dared to ask them anew.

That made his decision, though it did nothing to alleviate the weight of displeasure it brought.

Raising his left hand he made a gesture towards the female in-charge of their small entourage, then, without checking if they had understood his signal, he pocketed a Wing-Ding from his belt, tapping it in the middle to ready the weapon and double-checked the room's inhabitants to find himself pleased with the result:

Empty.

Once it was established he put the sharp material to use, slicing through the material that held them up with utmost precision. The small laser integrated cut the metal like butter, and once he was satisfied with the three cuts he'd made in front of him, the vigilante stored his weapon to later apply pressure on the three-way partial cut, making their opening and exit at once, and tossing with an expert aim a microchip towards each of the four cameras that kept the squared room on constant observation.

There was a discreet electric discharge from his ammunition, and he confirmed through his computer that all cameras were now effectively replaying the recordings from the past two minutes, and would be doing so until he deactivated them from a 35km. radio. Satisfied with his performance, Night-Robin jumped through his self-made opening, landing with a practice ease on the right corner of the room—just beside the door as he'd planned it. The tall male had glanced at his clock after the cameras were taken care off, knowing they had enough time to start making their retreat.

They've consumed approximately 00:02:47 out of his estimated 5-3minutes so far—and they've still had their thirty-four seconds window.

Not losing them another second of his agenda, he examined the door, casually locking it for precaution's sake (he'd _promised _his brother the Mission would be done _smoothly, _and that meant no chances, whether or not his computer would tell him if someone breached the motion sensors he'd placed on the vents during his scan), to then glance at the females glancing seriously downwards towards his position on the floor.

Barely containing a frustrated noise, he motioned for them to join him—albeit quietly—with his glare and one hand gesticulation, heading himself to the enormous machinery that occupied 2/3's of the chamber. Studying the lustrous apparatus, he managed a low growl when the three inept women were done (had they not paid attention to him before? He'd explicitly articulated they needed to be discreet and _soundless_), keeping a serious revision of the equipment. It wasn't something he or any of his Crew in Gotham had come across, but the facility itself had basic instructions regarding the machine's care.

'_It's enough.' _Night-Robin thought, valiantly taking a hidden cord from his gauntlet and attaching it to a slot in the mainframe. _'00:03:54 gone,' _and he was easily sidestepping the security commands on the Machine's Instructions that were attached to the processor, a couple of taps later, a noise came from the apparatus, making West, Harper and Reyes gasp audibly, to which he aimed them a glare that silenced them immediately; their focus returning solely to the opening compartments that had otherwise remained hidden after his successful intervention, granting the amateur spectators the Prize he'd uncovered in their place.

He'd noticed the tremor on Reyes's shoulders, immediately grabbing the hidden artifact with deft fingers—not a moment to lose—and motioning for them to return to the vents with two rapid signs. The female who wielded those treacherous weapons stiffened some more, but he cared not for her sentiments of him pocketing their Prize. On his peripheral vision he noted Harper moving the latina, and the three making their way—rather clumsily—to the vents. Now secure of his status, he took hold of the woven bag Dick left him, taking out the only thing that would reassure their mission completely until they made their next move.

Again, his brother's connections, of that Damian was sure as he placed the small artifact in the place the original used to be on; the Empire would not notice the lack of the original at all.

Closing everything the way it used to be, and making sure he'd recorded what he could while he'd interfered with the cameras, and machinery, Night-Robin leaped towards his opening, grunting at the females' nagging presence that stood too close to his position. With a narrowed gaze and focused mind, he placed force behind his strong hands, pulling upward the metal he'd left hanging on the vent from their opening to its original position as best as he could, holding the material with one hand whilst he sealed it with the same laser on a different temperature from his Wing-Ding; the laser melted the metal, sealing-up the vent as if nothing had transpired. The task taken care of, he checked the perimeter, deactivating the contraptions' on the four cameras from the chamber below at once, and starting a new path that would lead them to another exit—one he'd discovered was already tampered by his brother on his previous visit to the place, Damian was sure.

They left with fifty-one seconds to spare, including the thirty-second window he'd estimated, and made their way to their hidden quarters. Night-Robin watching all along the joyful frames that were perspiring with exhilaration at their Assignment with each other in a pensive manner. Once they've established a 1.5km distance from the Educational System, he opened his computer, moving his fingers on the golden-translucent keyboard, and activating the contraptions he'd placed on the vents, automatically redirecting them to his own personal archive in the Gauntlet, the Batwing, and the Batcave. Done with it, and ignoring the females' curious glances, he made the call for the same jet, receiving a positive response from Pennyworth with no further input.

On his list of changed priorities one remained the same.

He turned towards them, halting their path towards the empty hidden spot they were heading, steeling his gaze as he felt the circumstantial weight (metaphorically of course) of the artifact on his utility belt.

"We will head towards Gotham once we return to the previous premises." He told them matter-of-factly, almost scowling at the fact he couldn't be able to cast them aside anymore.

Dick had been right, once again.

All seemed confused, but their exhilaration seemed to eradicate any desire to contradict his orders.

They had been successful because of him, it was no secret to anyone.

"Alright," the Reyes female stated, nodding in understanding and he regained his step, already refraining from heaving a sigh to having to confront them once they found out Dick had left them, "we'll gather Robbie and our things quickly." A glance towards the speedster, "Is there any way you—"

"I've called for the Batwing." His white lenses glowered in the darkness. "We cannot keep wasting our time idly. It'll arrive in fifteen minutes." Harper's eyes widened behind her red mask.

"We won't be able to reach it in time—the walk alone takes us about twenty." She whispered, casting a glance to West.

"I can take one at a time, sorry." West expressed, alternating between the soles of her puny feet.

"No need." He returned with slight impatience. How did they presume to fulfill a new duty with that lack of assertiveness? "We will reach it by taking the fast route." Night-Robin made a deviation on their left, crouching unto a sewer access he'd located beforehand when his plan changed and ridding himself of the bolts with a Wing-Ding expertly. With the canal open, he glared at them, startling the girls into silent motion that made them take the jump. Taking the last leap, he grabbed the sewer entrance, sealing it shut superficially and landing expertly between the females, before taking a sprint towards the now-uninterrupted destination at hand.

With the exception of West who he was sure was doing it from lack of direction and comradeship, he kept the lead, the other two barely keeping on his feet, all the while thinking of the dull-green ring on his belt.

His Father needed to know of this; Damian was certain his General would know what to do with the uncharged Green Lantern Ring they possessed, and where they would find the Lantern and its bearer next. His previous observations though, demonstrated the new owner of the Ring had an affinity for fire guns, and was running right behind him.

Batman needed to know.

* * *

><p>(1) "Hey,"<p> 


	20. Delve into the Waters

_**Author's Notes: **__Deep chapter ahead; confusing too, but that's kinda the point. Also—story progress~!_

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

_**Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot._

_**Eventual Pairings: **__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**__ Foul language, Angst, non-explicit violence._

_Wednesday May 15__th__, 2013 __**Words:**__ 5,953_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XX.- Delve into the Waters._

_-~ 04:27am Primary Base Underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum _

Time seemed to take a blurry motion once they arrived at the infamous Batcave. The place was cold and dark; an eerie feeling of humidity and emptiness that made chills run through her spine. Upon descending the (_mind-blowing_) Batwing, Milagro spotted a couple of figures featuring an elder and a man with a red-helmet passing-by their peripheral view to some unfamiliar destination, barely giving pause to acknowledge the arrival of Night-Robin who promptly left with them, leaving all three alone in the creepy Cave.

Honestly it didn't matter. Robbie was gone and everything else was a succession of slow motion events, because while they had gotten her ring their charge had went away—all in the span of half an hour. And after helplessly searching for the child like mad, the Gothamite had managed to take them to the City that still stood, with the promise of renewing the search for their companion once they had the opportunity to do so (right after the three of them vehemently refused to get inside the jet if he didn't). As it was, the "note" (an absurd thought came to her, thinking they really should have taught the child to write) hadn't done much on their behalf, if only a slight comfort that nobody had taken their friend against his will.

That had been how the three young women found themselves upon a purplish bed, gaze lost in the opaque and rather small bedroom.

Regaining some semblance of awareness, Milagro lifted her head to better scrutinize their surroundings. The room was rather gloomy, even with some personal touch to it—small details here and there; photos and unidentified objects on various parts of the walls and bureau. She could vaguely recall the mature gentleman mentioning the bathroom that was on the door nearby the dresser to her right, as well as some mention of clothes; a platter with tea and some sandwiches left for when they went hungry.

It was odd how she felt so out of place without Night-Robin nearby—it was the guy's territory after all. Abruptly she yanked off her helmet, scratching vehemently to remove the itch on her scalp out of anxiousness. "You think they'll help us?" She blurted out, avoiding either pair of eyes over her own awkwardness. _'Of course they will,' _she chastised herself; this was Batman and Company—they lived to serve and protect the innocents.

"Yeah, they will." Iris answered four heartbeats later, getting out of her own trance. In the background Lian nodded too, and Milagro felt herself relax.

She would believe it if they did.

* * *

><p>"Well we can't leave them alone that's for sure." Batgirl said after the somber silence that followed Night-Robin's explanation. Sitting across from her the Red Hood snorted in amusement at the same time Black Bat nodded. "What?" she asked the man with growing impatience.<p>

"They're not your responsibility, Barbie," Red Hood taunted, and she would have said something had their General not remained unmovable from his own place at the head of the table, "they're his." The older man finished, signaling to Night-Robin at his side who glared for the briefest moments.

"Father," the teenager who sat on the other end of the table said firmly, ignoring everyone else as per usual, "there's still the matter of the Ring."

'_Yes, the ring,'_ Stephanie thought with grim determination as Batman aimed a look at Red Robin who understood the meaning.

"We hadn't had any new leads on what happened to the Lanterns, though the scans pointed some scarce leftover DNA from Guy Gardner on the ring." Her friend said, showing all the content of his report to everyone with expertise. Steph surveyed the man sitting at her left side with special attention; she was still sore with his attitude, but it was hard to keep mad at him when he was trying to help them in his own way. "Information about anything else regarding its confinement is unknown." Red Robin took a breath, aiming a cool stare at his younger brother without any animosity; her own breath stopped for a second or two. "I sincerely doubt Dick would have left us this unprepared. From what Damian said he essentially gave us the ring and it's bearer in a full two-week's time. Either his resources remained untouched for seven years now, or his sources are still alive."

"There wasn't any form of communication during our travel." She heard Damian state also without any trace of contempt (_what?_). "Whoever tips him must have done so before our encounter." Suddenly Jason had all their attention, and the blonde was sure he was glaring behind his old helmet.

"You've got something to say? Then say it." Jason spat.

"No." Cass's quiet voice broke their stare, sitting on the latter Vigilante's right. "You've been here. You're not it."

"It's not anyone in here. The ring would have been recovered earlier, and the holder investigated." Batman's baritone loomed, ceasing the matter, and sending her daughter at his left a look that showed his appreciation for the comment. "Dick wisely chose to remain incognito, and that's the most important variable in the case."

"And he took a micro too." She stated with optimism, feeling hopeful with the way their meeting was going. "So at least this time he'll be in touch." Batman gave an almost imperceptible nod, his reassurance kindly welcomed.

"Regarding our most recent guests, there are a couple of rooms left that we can provide for them, though we are in dire need of some mattresses and necessities for them to do. In the meantime the young ladies are in Miss Stephanie's room." Alfred finally saw his cue to speak, the only one in the room standing, just between Batman and Black Bat.

"Thank you, Alfred." Batman stated towards the Butler, then broke the eye-contact with her to observe the last of his line. "What you decide to do with them is your choice, but the Cave cannot be compromised."

"Of course, Father." Damian answered seriously, and Steph could swear she heard Jason mutter something unintelligible under a scoff.

"Then what we need to focus on is finding the lamp." Tim continued, already going through the task of sharing the information to each of their computers.

"What?" Stephanie blurted flabbergasted as she accepted the transfer on her gauntlet mechanically, quickly closing it to pay all her attention to the male. The man behind the Red Robin cowl spared her a patient look, no doubt taking advantage of being next to her.

"Dick's basically assembling a new Team. What good comes out from having the Green Lantern without a useful ring?" At her silence he aimed Damian a look. "I'll keep you posted if anything comes up, but I'll need to keep the ring for readings."

"Very well," Damian surprised her anew by agreeing in a conversation with Tim, "I'll begin with my own research likewise, and investigate the Reyes female for more useful data."

"Then you're dismissed. Black Bat, Red Hood: you stay." Batman stood from his place, adjourning the Meeting and Batgirl got up from her spot too. Her furrows wrinkling behind her cowl at one topic they all danced around.

"Damian, you'll tell us when Dick makes contact too," She asked, unable to prevent herself from doing it. It was creepy how Batman had all but ignored the fact that his eldest son was doing his own thing out in the open.

"Only if he states so." Night-Robin answered her. "I will not jeopardize his connection to satisfy unnecessary queries."

"But—"

"The matter is not up for discussion." Batman silenced both of them just like the upcoming comment from Tim (Steph felt for him, wisely choosing to overlook the miserable grimace the man swallowed at the subject). "Dick chose to leave. That's it. You three are dismissed," He said, glaring at them to oppose and seemingly satisfied, returned his glare towards the two oldest ones of their Generation, "Come, we still have things to discuss." As one the three made their way out of the room, Alfred's voice reminding them to accompany their new guests on their way out, whilst Red Hood followed Black Bat (_not _Batman) to the weaponry storage of the Cave, the British Butler closing the door in tow.

* * *

><p>"I don't think this is the same place from last time," Lian added into the trivial chatter after almost an hour waiting, "seems… I don't know, bigger? Definitely not like the other one." And she looked up towards the redhead for clarification.<p>

"No kidding." Iris answered, and Milagro found herself confused. Then the Meta smiled sadly at her, no doubt sensing her discomfort on their exchange (Irey and Lian were such good friends towards her), "Right after the Bats where unmasked our Dads placed us with Batman. Daddy wasn't the same after, well, ya know, Supermanandtheotherswentrogue, and Uncle Dick was no longer here, so he thought the safest place for us was in the Cave, while he and the rest fought the second part of the war." She shrugged, slumping on her stomach but being careful of Lian's bow and arrows. "When Daddy passed away Mom couldn't handle the life on the Cave, so she took me and my brother to another place."

"Ollie managed to get track of Batman before that," Lian continued, rubbing her naked eyes and sitting cross-legged on the mattress at her side, forcing a big yawn off, "I'm not sure how—I think they were tracking Grandpa Ollie anyways, and finally decided to have a word with him," at that the raven frowned, "Daddy had said he couldn't go to him before so went to Batman instead. I didn't realize why until later. Ollie _was _on Superman's side." She voiced Milagro's doubt with resignation and she in turn placed a hand on the raven's shoulder. "Anyways when Daddy died I guess he managed a way to reason with Batman, and they let me go with him." A gloomy shrug. "Grandpa isn't a bad person, and I understand his position keeps me safe now, so that's probably why Batman said yes instead of keeping me here alone in a Cave with just Alfred when they were a mess on their own."

The military-in-training nodded, feeling closer to them.

"Yeah, I think Mom wasn't too comfortable around them either." Iris sighed after Lian's words. "We were already mourning Daddy and everybody else, and Batman had suddenly become _a lot_ scarier. Mom said it was unhealthy for everyone to keep going as they were, but some months later she just opted we left." Her green eyes wondered about the room. "Sometimes Jai and I would wonder what would have happened if we stayed here. We thought we would be out there, fighting to fix this, ya know—better prepared than what we are on our own, but then again, maybe we wouldn't. I doubt anyone—even Tim—could've given us their time to help us become our Legacy; everything was too messed-up."

"I know what you mean." The brunette added, not wanting to let the courage leave her. "Papa and Mama didn't have any chance to do anything when Jaime died." She looked at them, more at ease than she had thought she would feel like with the subject at hand. "When the first part of the War ended and everyone thought we had won, Jaime was still across the Atlántico (1) helping the refugees, that was when we saw the news reporting they had Batgirl in custody." At that she furrowed her eyebrows in anger. "I remember being upset about it, I mean, that girl was a hero—she gave her everything to stop a war and they were holding her like some _criminal._" She shook her head, her long mane hitting her shoulders in retaliation.

"Then they unmasked her. My parents shared a look, and I'm sure they knew better than I at the time, because they tried everything to get in contact with Jaime for _days. _Only it wasn't… enough…" her frown was melancholy in itself. She no longer cried for her brother's death, one-too-many years getting used to the idea, but the sour taste lingered on her mouth whenever she recalled the past; their loss. "De la nada (2) we were informed via some card with a Bat logo that Jaime's status wasn't M.I.A. anymore: that he was dead. That's when my parents decided to go to Mexico, since Mama's family had connections with the Military and they could keep us safe. After that it's just been the same I guess. Training, planning and keeping secrets and all."

"It's amazing how they helped you to take care of yourself. Ollie wasn't so sure on keeping me on the loop, that's why my training was very inconsistent." Lian chatted, running a hand through her short hair. "I'm glad something hit him on the head to realize I needed to know this."

"They weren't the ones who _actually _taught me. We have some Sergeants that train recruits—everyone has a job; I'm one of the youngest ones in there. The only other two younger than me learned faster than I to wield a knife and disarm an enemy though." She told them, leaning on her elbows comfortably and whistling in appreciation at the memory. "They're _wicked _good. They've also helped me lots of times, but they're _way _outta my league. The army is full of people like that."

"Really? How does that even work?" Irey asked, interest perked on her big eyes.

"You could say my training is, ah, 'inconsistent' too." She made a motion with her left hand. "Mama wants me to learn, but Papa _still_ doesn't; says they're making me a target too. That's why I'm still a cadete (3)."

"Ha! I can relate—you should've seen the time Mom caught Daddy with us in the news." Iris snickered, rejoicing in the memory. "Boy, was Daddy in trouble—just like us! But Mom saw the need quickly. She helped us a lot to keep in shape, and tried to coach us into our superhero gig we run back in Chicago. Mom's awesome, though more professional training always comes-in handy. You're lucky."

"As you're able to recall with our fiasco of a Mission, that alone isn't enough." She added with some dry humor, the other two sharing the smile.

"I'm pleased to hear you simpletons agree on the shameful fact." Night-Robin's voice brusquely stopped them short. "Nonetheless your tedious yapping is not an acceptable solution." He kept admonishing arms crossed upon the doorframe, glaring them down and Milagro found herself wishing he'd remained elsewhere. "We will begin—wha—Brown!" The male got interrupted at the sudden presence of a female who roughly removed the hood covering his head, glaring him down.

"That's no way of treating the ladies." The one and only Batgirl reproved while Milagro felt her brown eyes widen in amazement: here she was, cowl up and utility belt to boot, _the _Batgirl.

"-Tt-" Night-Robin placed his hoodie-up again, completely at ease with the blonde Vigilante despite attempting to show the contrary. "Their manners prove otherwise."

"Oi!" Iris exclaimed offended while Lian rolled her eyes. They offered Batgirl a smile once she shooed the male from the room; the indignant Night-Robin muttering something along the lines of 'getting ready' or something. Milagro wasn't sure.

"There—don't take it personally," Batgirl walked towards them, her smile too old for her face, "he's usually like that." Then she placed her hands on her hips, throwing them an amused stare. "You three must have ungodly amounts of patience to be that long with him and that mouth of his. I'm officially impressed."

Lian nodded. "We know our way around, and we had someone who kept him in line."

"Yeah, we're cool." Iris said, and Lian nudged her in the ribs with a teasing smirk.

"Says the one who loses it the most."

Milagro snickered and found herself pleased when the older woman smiled fuller. Iris, however, wasn't very keen on the provocation.

"'S not like he makes it easy—and Milagro is just as bad!"

"¡Hey!" She blurted out, enjoying the teasing grin on the freckled teen. "…at least I try to keep it civil."

"_In any case,_ I'm glad to see you girls brought him in one piece. He may be difficult, but we were still very worried about him." Batgirl said, removing her cowl leaving her blonde hair free. "I'm Stephanie Brown, by the way."

"Milagro Reyes," she said, reaching to grasp the hand offered in a firm shake, "pleased to meet you Miss Brown."

"Oh—you don't need to call me that. Alfred's the only one who bothers with titles, it's just Steph," she said laughing slightly, "Lian and Iris must remember that much, even if we saw each other at least once back in the day."

"Steph it is," Milagro answered happily.

"Okay, now that we got that covered, I'll show you three ladies to your rooms—Alfred's kinda busy, and you guys can tell me what you're gonna need since the rooms are basically walls at this point." Steph told them kindly, but they were too dumbstruck to follow her outside. The woman paused to watch them closely. "I'm guessing Damian didn't tell you girls anything."

"We're _staying_?" Lian asked, being the most composed. "He didn't say we were gonna stay—we were supposed to make a quick visit and go back to Cali."

"See, we have a friend there, and we wannamakesurehe'salright." Iris added, bobbing her head in agreement; hopping on her toes repeatedly, and Stephanie raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, Damian mentioned him on the Meeting." There was a flash of emotion on those blue eyes that disappeared before Milagro could figure it out. "He also said your friend 'Malone' left on his own—don't take me wrong, we'll search for him as promised once we've got some ground to work on, but for now you'll have to stay here until you four decide what to do next." She quickly explained, rushing to quell their rising oppositions at her first choice of words. It worked well enough; they didn't think Batgirl would lie to them like that.

Also, a 'Meeting'? The Gotham crew didn't spared any time.

The three followed the older woman through the damp stone walls, paying close mind to the small tour.

"Hey, Steph," she asked, gaining the superheroes' attention, "what did you meant 'we four'?"

The blonde turned to watch her like she was slow for a second before scrutinizing her two friends as well; obviously puzzled by the same expressions.

"I meant you _four_," a pause, "you guys and Damian." Then she tilted her head to her side, confusion on her naked eyes. "You're a team after all." Then she resumed walking closing the subject while she made sure to let them know some mattresses and amenities would be on their quarters soon enough.

The blur had faded, and Milagro had found their way out of the haze.

* * *

><p><em>~-<em>_08:01hrs. Third Base beneath the Lake of Baikal, Russia (three weeks later, second week of July)._

Barbara massaged once-anew her eyelids in her wake; the feeling of collapse crawling all over her body.

It had taken seven days to have Kate and Beryl returning from their gig in France, with nothing but a reminder of a detached Bilal back on his home country, and another extra five days for her friends to show her what they got from their French 'ally'. The rest of the week and a half had gone-by with the pace of a dying snail.

The woman who had earned the name Oracle grimaced miserably, bypassing her gentle massages to fully rub her palms upon her blood-shot eyes. Again, her mind brought-out the sympathetic looks from both women when handing her the once heavily-encrypted chip, and giving the space she had asked when she had it working on her computer.

Another twist came on her stomach as she succumbed to another defeated choke, fully aware of the soreness that carried the repetitive action.

Dick was alive.

_How_—_when_—none of them knew, but the message had been with one-too many words in-between to confirm her former friend was back in the world of living—and some instructions (if you could call them that) about very ambiguous undertakings on his side.

It was for all intents and purposes an open letter to stand-by for directions when their turn to act came, and watch-out for anything coming-by towards them (and _only that_).

The secrecy of his apparition was supposed to remain intact, naturally—there wasn't any open declaration of it, but Barbara knew Dick enough to get it. Now, taking aside the shock that came with the acrobat alive (it was too much to handle, and she had barely been able to stand-it), she and her team had focused on the nature of his message.

Like how he was also being infuriatingly vague—and despite her brilliance, there was nothing she could find on it as of yesterday when she kept adamant on keeping on the vigil for any order from the other side (another subject that kept her wandering—did Batman know? To that her mind always answered "Yes," but then why would Bilal have such thing, and should she tell them? The loss was shared—one of the few things they still had in common; it was pure torture). In the end she was trusting his word—despite being _vehemently_ against it—and had come to the hard decision of remaining on the look-out for any possible change on their 'domains' without further add-on (including disclosing his sudden apparition to the Gotham crew). Even Beryl was standing put.

Remembering the promised lunch with her father, Barbara called Kate through the intercom, waiting until the other redhead arrived. Thus it was with just enough reluctance that she wheeled her way to their Base's Kitchen, leaving her friend to keep an eye out.

At least her father always gave her the company she needed and the comfort she sought after.

Kate sat in her civvies upon the console, drinking her second mug of the day. An hour later or so, one of her radars nearby buzzed to life—one red point upon their locator: a signal that somebody had breached one of their areas by air. Closing into the location she expertly began typing away to cameras on the vicinity of the zone. Just like the older redhead, she was fatigued herself; her hot mug of coffee touching her full lips once she found her prize; a sadistic 'Bingo' chanting on her minds-eye.

It was a rather unusual sight, she decided, placing some commands and straightening on her chair, taking point to record what she could unto her gauntlet. She had been on edge since they've received word on Dick's status from Bilal; wanting to go out there herself to take care of their responsibilities like before, but remaining unable to actually do it. The pale woman had understood (even with the Romani's awful guidelines) the seriousness of remaining on the sidelines, even if she didn't like it.

Right now she was convinced this was one of the things that message had warned them about. Details involving how they would be sharing the information were meaningless for now.

After all, how common was to have the Amazon Queen on the Parley after Dick told them to just observe?

* * *

><p><em>~-<em>_08:42hrs. Buckingham Palace Gates, Omicron-London, England._

Diana walked on the otherwise deserted streets of what used to be a very problematic City a couple of years back. Her was face set with a mean twist of her lips, unable to contain the exposure of her problematical thoughts about (what she had considered) kept the peace at bay:

The Empire.

Up until months ago she hadn't doubts in regards to her place within the World of Men—where peace existed, even if it wasn't an option towards the citizens—having overcome plentiful reservations over the years following the Second War about her feelings and ideals that crashed with Leviathan's established order and its epitomes. The journey was prolonged, one that demanded an insufferable amount of heartaches and sacrifices, and although she had never been at complete peace with her mind over her actions or previous comrades (Superman, Dinah—**Bruce**), not once had she felt as insecure and shaken about any of her extensive path as she was now.

Now she was discovering happenings that were long buried—possibly so before she chose to remain at Clark's side instead of Bruce's.

Diana felt cheated. Fooled upon the abundant conspiracies in which she had not been justly aware afore, given her place as a Head on the Empire.

She was frightened. The very foundations of her actions were in question.

Wonder Woman had, in retaliation, decided to maintain her own agenda where her investigations belonged to no one. It, of course, brought her to many dead ends and countless frustrating moments for her lack of research, maintaining her barely afloat until that last horrid recollection from Talia's part; thus was the reason she found herself to this place, recalling the trepid words on the slime paper that held no true value whatsoever to her eyes.

What did it really meant? "Search roots. GO North." could held countless significances. She'd had nothing until along those nights when sleep claimed her, a depraved whispering kept on her ear to search the place where it all began—assuring the Queen of the Amazons she would discover the answers to her riddles and the truth about her posture.

Strong steps guided her towards the old Palace; she ignored the security, and they in turn, attempted their best to stay out of her way after she dared them to with her fierce glare.

They had held the girl on this land—Stephanie Brown; Batgirl… 'the place where it all began'.

* * *

><p><em>~-19<em>_:52hrs. Old-Port Beach, New York._

_"__Achoo!__" _Dick sneezed loudly, grimacing at the residue of saliva that now decorated the inner part of his air-mask. "Dammit," he said out-loud, cleaning it right away at the same time he walked in the roof of yet, another lone-building. It had taken him long enough to reach his destination, what with all his recurrent issues escalating up-a-notch when he left the children to their own devices.

His theory, however, became all the more solid.

Sniffing into the now-cleaned device, he climbed downwards, using the window panels to reach a pole some meters ahead to make his jump unto the next building.

Net had told him the place was dangerous; Mage had just offered to get him as close as he could, knowing he was not going to change his mind.

Dick had gladly accepted, and promised to get-in touch as soon as he found something. They've talked about Jason too. He had a hard time getting the first two to concede his point and leave Jason be. All in all, he trusted the second-Robin with the rest of their plans (that now included a teenage Team in the making), so that had shut them up about his sibling's sunny disposition. Frowning, he made a mental note to talk with his brother about his sharp attitude towards his co-workers, lest he wanted a sharp boot on his behind for his efforts. He'd also given them a mean glare when the topic of Damian surfaced—he'd yet to accept his little brother's part in their schemes, and they backed down enough on their agenda to please him.

A thunder resonated above him—the part of the sky that he'd never been able to reach again, letting him know that his plans were either going to be put on hold, or he needed to go there ASAP and find a place to take refuge from the rain and scavengers (the last incident had not been much fun to reenact anyways).

The Romani jumped, launching his grapple with practiced ease, until he reached an acceptable distance from the shore and the remaining infrastructure; the rain had started to fall down, and from his secluded point at the top of a two-story restaurant, he could watch the remaining people running to find refuge from the escalating heaven's wrath.

Perching into the enormous letters that still stood, he attempted to hide from the water that came down with increasing force until the masses had quelled down below; his clothes were already soaked anyhow, so waiting was not in question.

It took a couple more minutes until he stopped seeing people running around like crazy, instantly jumping down to the rails of the restaurant's balcony and then towards the empty streets. Dick bolted, trying to keep his path to less public areas (like deadbeat alleys) until he reached completely the shore; gasping in a show of exertion and adrenaline upon the sight of the seas brutally thrashing into the left-over sand from so much pollution. He ran his hand over his hair, trying to remove the disobedient locks that kept him from seeing the water's majestic show before he ran to a segment near the port, hiding himself underneath the old wood to escape the weather. Perched high enough underneath the bridge that tempted to be overrun by the water beneath him, he breathed heavily, taking off his jacket to strap it on the log where he sat, and repeating the action with his wet sneakers. There was no rush to leave the place he'd taken a month to arrive, and the weather was not as bad to him as to most of the people around. A shiver ran up his spine though—the only downside of the evening.

He needed some warm—preferably dry—clothes; right now would be nice.

"_Achooo!_" The Wayne heir sneezed again, grunting in discomfort. With trembling fingers he opened his backpack, searching for a purple umbrella he'd found when he began his travels. Once he found it, he grinned, overlooking his cold skin or running nose in favor of tying a secure knot on his belongings in the same place where his other stuff hung (precariously) to go back and search for new clothing.

It took him a while—the rain now a gentle but consistent drizzle to find something acceptable for him when he found himself back on his balancing spot above the now calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Dick couldn't have changed faster, leaving what he took of his clothes to dry with the rest of his stuff and smiling content at the warm embrace of semi-dry textiles on his skin. The moon was almost full, and the constant throb that had accompanied him side-by-side with his sickness kept receding the more time he spent nearby the waters enough to lull him to sleep, one of his legs dangling with the chilly air.

* * *

><p><em>~-<em>_20:28hrs. Buckingham Palace Gates, Omicron-London, England._

She hadn't found a thing; her restlessness evident on her harsh movements—in the manner of how she tossed documents upon documents around the office. The guards had gone back to their homes at some point during the evening, but Diana could not recall it exactly. Such was her frustration that she smashed her fist to the table—the material splitting at the demonstration of her strength into tiny pieces, and she just stood; completely silent for a moment.

What had she done wrong? Of course it had been ridiculous to assume she would just find a secret that even she wasn't privy off on plain sight, and yet she had hoped…

"Hera, where else can I search?" She talked to herself, debating whether to leave and spare herself the bitter disappointment of her undeniable failure any longer or stay and prolong the inevitable. "Think, Diana, think. Where would they hide something they still need?"

Unable to find a solution to her query, she walked away from the office, strolling the Parliament Building and nodding to some leftover guards who were attempting their best to avoid her; she had found reason within her frustration to know these were common-folk—it mattered not if they wore the colors of the Empire. They simply did not know anything.

Amid her stroll her legs took her to what was her cell (again); her blue eyes staring straight into the dead space where the woman who held no responsibility on the aftereffects had been captive. Recollections of her antagonism reemerged, with pictures of the blonde warrior who had been publicly shamed dancing in front of her, taunting her failure and lack of clues.

Then, as quick as that she knew the answer to her riddles, eyes widening at the logic that had escaped her reach.

Bruce.

If anyone, the Bat was ought to know the truth—the reason beyond their War… the 'place where it all began' was crystal clear to her now.

Her destination set she turned on her heels, pausing to glimpse one last time to the answer she'd been seeking all alone before leaving.

Forbidden or not, dangerous beyond what she dared to imagine she was set:

Diana was going to Gotham.

* * *

><p><em>~-<em>_?_

_Their muscles tensed—the left limb screaming in protest from the constant abuse in a haze of reds and oranges._

_Was this what heaven looked like? They really hoped it didn't, but could barely distinguish the foggy thoughts to attest their existence: their self._

_Maybe they weren't actually an entity; couldn't even remember the last time they gazed at anything that wasn't the red fog underneath their eyelids, nor the last time they'd had a cognizant idea of where, what or who they were. All that they could remember was ache that sprang what may have been audible protests from their mouth. But even that was doubtful. It was like they were just a mass of existence; there and not there at the same time. Just a torture of a life that they may have remember or experienced accompanied by the constant scratch on their skin and some noise that attested their torment._

_Something sharp poked at its body and it grunted (or not?) at the imprudent cold object. At that same time though, something pulled them back—a presence that spoke of promises that went beyond broken bones or tested skin, and they went to it obligingly._

_It seemed to anger their provocateurs, because their spectrum defining pain only seemed to become louder, and the colors of their song dimmer. Nonetheless, whenever one of them sang with such promises they relented, even when the punishment defied the reality that they could not understand nor guarantee. Soon enough, or maybe after long, they weren't sure (after all did they even exist?) could barely distinguish a pull that yanked them apart, further and further underneath the songs that painted their otherwise doubtful animation, until it became all but a figment of something that was or wasn't, and their sleep became perpetual with constant hazes breaking their entity: their self sporadically._

_Was there such a place before? Was it all a figment of their imagination, of a blob in space that maybe served to carry the residues of living beings existence, and therefore were obliged to carry the dark spots that served like the blackened veils of living creatures? Deluded itself into thinking it existed because it carried pain in the numbness?_

_Nightmares were the only answer; the only definition, and its own reality whether it existed or not._

_And they remained terrified throughout the bouts of their constant presence because sometimes, those songs sprang to life anew, and every time they were deprived of singing the notes._

* * *

><p>(1) Atlantic.<p>

(2) "Out of nowhere"

(3) "cadet."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong> Making aside how long it took to update, what thrills me is that we're finally making real story progress. Confused as it may appear. Enjoy.~_


	21. Boiling Pot

_**Author's Notes: **__Keeping up with story progress—also, not as confusing, and more to a direct timeline, and dialogue-like. But progress!_

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

_**Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot._

_**Eventual Pairings: **__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**__ Foul language, Angst, non-explicit violence._

_Monday November 25th, 2013 __**Words:**__ 5,638_

* * *

><p><strong>War of the Bats<strong>

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXI.- Boiling Pot._

_-~21:56hrs. Sprang Br., Robbinsville (1), Gotham City (2 months later)._

'_There's a job for you.' _Red Hood signaled, already irritated at the late arrival of his accomplice. Gusts of wind had been coming with full force from the South (thanks Freeze), and despite wearing his helmet, the grown man couldn't help but smell the stench that it carried in its wake.

It only soured his already foul mood.

'_What are the specifics?' _The teenager answered with equal dexterity, undeterred by the drafts that flapped his cape violently behind him.

'_Superficial Reconnaissance __**only**__.' _He gestured, making strong emphasis on the last word. Bypassing the annoyed glare on the little Prince's mask, Jason scooped another scan to their surroundings.

He was reasonably suspicious of any witness to their meeting thank you very much.

Black Bat was on the far side of Gotham, right by Chinatown, since they weren't supposed to meet for another twenty minutes, but he was more than familiar with the City's treacherous ways.

The Bat could be anywhere. _Anybody _could be anywhere. Whoever said paranoia is a bad thing they clearly hadn't been on Gotham before or after its transformation.

'_Don't mock me, Hood.' _The brat answered, also putting more force behind his statement. _'Objective.' _He continued, somehow managing to make a sentence out of a question with just his gloved hands.

It amused Jason—and that disturbed him a little.

'_Same as Louisiana.' _The older man countered, wary of the slight tension on the Wayne's shoulders. _'There's a chance the place's abandoned,' _he somewhat amended, knowing he was being unfair with the youngest Robin (it wasn't _his _fault that he was still stuckin Gotham), _'as long as you get some Intel of what went-on in there we don't care.' _ Jason almost huffed, already exasperated at the exchange and his own participation in sugaring the situation for Damian.

'_If there are survivors where am I to take them?' _

Jason's eyes slit behind his red helmet. "Where" was his constant headache. This wasn't supposed to be under Batman's radar, so the Asylum was out of the question. And it wasn't as if he or the others were expecting to see any survivors—there haven't been any on _all_ the Facilities they've found over the years, so why start now. Still, there was always the chance that life up-ended him (again) and then what? The vigilante scowled, reconsidering his options to avoid the inevitable.

At least the brat wasn't asking more than he needed to.

'_You bring them to Leslie.' _He finally elaborated; hands almost refusing to make the gestures needed for the message. The 'you'll tell me first' was inferred. The kid was smart, if not overly exasperating with that perpetual stick up his ass. _'But you don't interfere with any shit, you clear? Don't touch or move __**anything. **__We only need pictures, nothing more.'_

He'd deal with Batman later if the need came. He was sure he could spin it off and make it all seem an "accident" or something. Maybe detonate a thing or two. It'd do wonders for his mood in any case.

'_Very well, I'll—' _The teen began, but was startled out of his message when Jason's watch blinked in awareness. Both remained quiet while he raised his arm to uncover the helpful artifact, recognizing the signal from their illustrious sister.

He pressed a clog to open verbal communication (he refused on using a mic. from Bruce; there was some pride left within him, even if he remained in the City against common sense).

"_Black Bat, over." _

Jason smirked despite the interruption to a much delayed meeting, having grown used to that mouse voice of hers.

"Sup, 'sis." He replied, amused by the teen's frown on his complete dismissal of formality. Not like he 'worked' with them.

"_Hello," _she conversed, and the Demon almost bit his cheek to keep from clicking his tongue in distaste—it just entertained him the more, really, _"we need to go back. Night-Robin's missing."_

And what do ya know, suddenly the situation wasn't funny anymore.

Figures.

"So we need to fill-in as babysitters? No offense Bat, but I'd rather keep away from the sugar-high ragamuffins on a Friday night." Jason changed his position against the metallic door to the rooftop, his amusement about to fade away. He had an idea of what probably had happened, so he signaled Damian to stay put. "And who says he's missing? He's like, what? Fifteen? Sixteen? Boy that age needs time to keep himself entertained—especially with three distractions on the loose. Have they checked-out the bathrooms yet?"

There was a flush of color that went all the way up to said teenager's tanned face, (never underestimate his ability to be an asshole) though Jason would be more diverted by the action if his conference wasn't treading by a hair.

"_Red Robin said his team hasn't found him in more than an hour. He's not answering. And the tracker isn't working." _Black Bat said, obviously choosing to ignore his suppositions on the whereabouts of his assistant. _"I'll tell Batman in our way back."_

That actually gave him an opening.

"That's it? Look, it's a no brainer: he's been training the Juniors, so chances are he's _hiding _from them somewhere in the cave to make them think outside the box. Seriously, that's why the Replacement called you? I bet the ragamuffins whined for his help when they couldn't do anything other than stare." At that he turned to Damian, making a set of hand signs for him. _'You really need to do something about them.' _To his credit, Damian looked like he agreed with the comment, obviously upset about the little girls' lazy-ass dispositions.

"_Red Robin couldn't find him too." _She said after a pause, and it was in those little mistakes in her speech that Jason remembered her beginnings; a constant resonance whenever he cursed the Old-Bat after he sent the two of them together like they were his little sidekicks to boss around. The girl was trying to help (it wasn't on her that the Replacement lacked a spine either), and she'd done nothing to antagonize him, Jason gave her that much, so with a sigh he changed his tone to something more mellow.

"And I bet that's because the Little Shit knew Restaurant Boy was going to yield to the munchkins." He felt the angry glare at his person and met the disgruntled bird's stare without shame on his words. "Give 'em an hour. 'Sides, weren't we supposed to be doing something important here? Let Barbie handle it."

"… _alright, Black Bat out."_

'_Looks like the search party's been cancelled.' _Red Hood quickly picked-up after their sister disconnected from his line.

'_Amateurs.' _His grumpy companion responded. _'They were supposed to keep-on searching instead of going to the likes of Drake for assistance.' _

'_No need to look so down kid, this is actually giving us Carte Blanche,' _He kept, focused on finishing as soon as possible so the other could go back to the Cave and act like nothing happened, _'you'll take the Juniors with you—' _when he saw the teen's expected denial he quickly accentuated his sign language, _'—they'll give you the cover you need to make your move, Precious.' _Jason explained, annoyed at the boy's rash attitude. _'It's about time you've took them to a little field trip. Nobody will suspect a thing.'_

'_And what am I to do to them, Hood? They've yet to be ready, and are clearly incapable of taking care of themselves inside the Cave, much less out in the field.' _

Jason rolled his eyes.

'_Think, Precious. You'll drop them somewhere far enough for you to do your thing. Same scenario: let them play hide-and-seek—God knows they've been whining about getting some real work done all over the place. While they flounder around like headless chicks you'll get in, get out, and let them know how much they suck when it's over. You get the mission, they get work on their Portfolio, and Replacement stays out of our hair. It's a win-win for everybody.'_

Damian had taken hold of his chin, nodding as he had read his movements in approval. _'God dammit,' _Jason thought, almost feeling like he'd run a marathon with the hot-headed brat.

'_It is, indeed, an appropriate cover. Very well, what is the location and time of departure?'_

'_33.98928, -88.50560, A.S.A.P.' _The older man replied with precision, all business. If there were survivors he was sure the other one would make-up something for the inexperienced-trio, and that he wouldn't endanger the mission. This little cry for help was their excuse to get the princesses playing cops and robbers out of the house and the kid do their real work.

'_Understood.'_

They needed to get moving, Jason thought somberly. Mage had already researched part of the city, but he was just one man, and it was time their extra player got some work done too.

* * *

><p><em>-~22:39hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"Your lack of diligence is throughout noted." Night-Robin said to the young women who glared at his sight. "I found myself searching for _you _to find out you've given-up on the task already and went for _help _instead. Unacceptable." He kept, sincerely disappointed in their deficiency of persistence. The Son of Batman was nowhere-nearby convinced of taking his amateur group to an exploratory session outside the Cave, but the situation left him and Todd without much choice if they wanted to keep anonymous.

Nonetheless, they could have at the very least made an _attempt _at not embarrassing him against his co-workers with their shameless ineptitude.

"Well, what are we supposed to do when you disappear out of nowhere without specific instructions?" The Harper girl responded with bite; her fists clenched in those tasteless yellow gloves and azure eyes naked to his masked ones.

"You were _'supposed' _to locate my position with precision, and without my awareness." He answered factually. The females glared at him all the more, as if expecting to make him react to their glowering.

'_-Tt-, amateurs.' _He thought with reproach.

"You _weren't _in the Cave." Reyes took a step forward, raising her hand to point at him in an accusing manner. "We _checked. _So what we did wasn't 'lack of diligence'—it was _evening the odds_."

Damian narrowed his eyes; white slits glowing in the darkness around them.

"While it certainly wasn't the case I'm curious to know how that would be 'evening the odds'." Night-Robin spat right back at her. The Hispanic was always trying to get the better of him, using his words in a mockery fashion, and it was starting to get tiring.

"Can'tyoujustadmityouwentoutandwecanallmoveon?" West interrupted Reyes' reply, undoubtedly impatient to leave the matter be. "_Timchecked_. _Wechecked_. You. Weren't. In. The. Cave. Case closed."

Damian crossed his arms above his chest; unyielding.

"Drake wouldn't be able to find me without the tracker on. You three simpletons are avoiding the fact that you are complacent and prefer the easier choice—"

"_What_ is the point on doing these drills anyways?" Harper rudely interrupted him whilst the redheaded speedster kept moving on her spot. "We should be out there in the field instead of playing Hide-and-Seek with you. You've trained us—Batgirl's trained us too—we should be doing something!" She finished passionately; the other two complying on her revelation with their eyes.

Damian, however, remained unmoved.

"Do you expect finding the Lamp will be as easy?" He countered, immediately succeeding in silencing their questioning of his methods. "Drake has been researching through our Databases, and that of his capability from the Empire's and has yet to find anything valuable. My own investigation isn't faring better with your limited knowledge, constant distractions—and questioning—of your training exercises. If you three truly believe there is no reason behind our methods then we are, indeed, wasting our time just like our resources."

"… okay, tienes razón, tienes toda la razón en eso, y lo sentimos—pero (2) you can't say we shouldn't be asking for help when we can because we will die out there like that. We're not ready to face everything alone—and we don't have to either! Aren't we supposed to be a team?" Reyes picked up, her tone slightly more reasonable yet bristling with emotion from their outburst; practically bleeding with need of acceptance to their point.

He could, in point of fact, give them that to their credit.

"Indeed, though the recipient was the wrong one, it is a measure I'm pleased you're willing to acknowledge." He hummed, letting them bask in the praise of the one statement that deserved positive feedback.

"Then_who_arewesupposedtocall?" West blurted out in incredulity; both pigtails bouncing with the pace behind her feet.

"West." Damian answered effortlessly, watching the realization dawn upon their faces.

"_What?" _The twin of the aforementioned questioned in even more astonishment.

"-Tt- I meant _Jai West. _You've been aware of his participation on several meetings—"

"—yeah, butwedidn'tknewwecouldcallhimfor_help_!" The Meta exclaimed with a scandalized look on her face.

Damian raised an eyebrow.

"Why else would we have gone through the process of providing him the means of communication with all the appropriate equipment for reconnaissance missions?" Damian actually found the other West far more capable than the set of three before him; he was his Oracle in training (though obviously better), so to speak.

The three stared at him dumbly, and the Team Leader narrowed his eyes in distaste at their dense obliviousness.

"…um, our bad…?"West quipped after an awkward silence of their own making and Damian couldn't help rubbing his eyes in exasperation. "Canwegotoourroomnow? It's been a long day andwekindaneedashower." She finished nervously, no doubt wishing to be spared from the shame of their foolishness as the other two nodded their consent.

"No. Whilst you three have yet to prove your usefulness, you deliver a strong point in needing more experience outside our Base." He added, finally able to converse his Mission on their meeting and enjoying their stunned expressions. "We will be traveling to a new terrain, that way you will actually have the opportunity to prove if you're ready for supplementary exercises outside our field of Operations."

"Are you serious?" The archer gasped with excitement filling her soprano.

"-Tt-, don't be ridiculous, Harper, I'm always serious." He admonished, making the trio smile at the prospect. Somehow, their reaction to his notice gave him a pleasant feeling that he decided to ignore, less he be getting proud of their involvement, disastrous as it was.

"You won't regret it—at what time do we leave?" Reyes asked, not hiding her grin at the news while West ran in circles around all of them, making the wind swipe his cape and dismount his hood.

"Be packed and ready—I'll not be lenient enough to let you know beforehand; you're always to be prepared for a Mission." The oldest teen answered, turning around and walking away. He could hear their chatter for every step he took away from them. Let them get prepared.

He had to do the same as well.

* * *

><p><em>-~18:16hrs. (Next day) Fortress of Solitude. Kal-El's Home and Second Base to the Empire.<em>

Something was wrong, he decided. He could somehow feel it. It was like a constant reminder that followed him wherever he went for the past months or so.

Clark saw the first sign in Diana.

His navy gaze narrowed; large hands grasping the sides of his face in agitation at the amount of stress he'd had over the matter.

The Kryptonian had been aware of the giant gap that kept forming between himself and the Amazon Queen over the years, but there had always been some kind of silent understanding behind their cause hiding behind regretful gazes and wounded pride.

Now though (and honestly since that Louisiana incident really), it was as if something had made the gap grow double the size in seconds, and Clark had no idea what he'd done to make his friend look at him with so much hate behind her withered eyes. There was always something wrong nowadays—it was like all the effort they've conveyed had suddenly been ripped to pieces: shattered beyond repair by some outside force he had no idea existed.

Clark used to be aware of everything that happened not that long ago… how did things took a turn for the worse without him noticing it? Had Diana always felt like this and had finally decided to let him know it? Was the world going mad? Or maybe it had something to do with Bruce again.

His eyes shone red.

It was always about Bruce. Everything was slowly slipping out of his control, and he could bet his life that the somber Bat had something to do about it.

But this time Clark had been prepared for that. Diana was busy tending recently Empire's orders elsewhere, and he just needed a little more time to set things straight and quell the Lords about their pest problem.

The time for Batman's end was quickly approaching, and it was with a heavy heart that he welcomed the relief it brought to him.

* * *

><p><em>-~19:43hrs. Haughton Memorial Park (Cementery), Amory, Old-Mississippi.<em>

_He had to decide between his two responsibilities._

Beneath all the commotion Damian kept his position unmoving, as he assisted in holding Batgirl's frame in their tight space.

And that's exactly what he'd done.

He'd been denied of proceeding with his true intentions since the very beginning of his agenda for the day. His moment interrupted once he got within the State's territory he was to investigate by the voice of his Father—an important task to heed effective immediately:

Provisions.

Amongst their duties there were few types of errands Damian had the luxury to bypass as something beneath him that spurred out of the moment with no aforementioned trail behind them, or even interrupt an ongoing exercise like this—acquiring prime matter was _not_ one of them. Instantly priorities changed: his General already leaving the specifics with Drake, who quickly sent them to him in order to rendezvous with Cain and steal the resources they could not afford to lose.

An entire City to feed was taxing, it left them with little to no choice in the means to take opportunities such as these ones without hesitation (and their own implements to keep waging their war were no less difficult to attain). So it was with great reluctance that he made the detour to take his Team-in-the-making towards Gotham, and was then intercepted by Brown to lend her charge over his Trainees.

Frowning behind his less than impeccable mask he strongly questioned his judgment at authorizing such measures despite encouragement towards the idea. At the end, he only agreed based on appearance's sake, not wanting to risk his and Todd's Operation.

And now here he was yet again, amid cursing himself for his lack of foreboding in time he battled to keep the unconscious girl from moving hence worsening her (most definitely) fractured ribs, while feeling an odd sense of accomplishment at the measures his Team had taken before and after their chaperon was out for the count.

'_What now?' _Reyes signaled between their reduced space first; the calmest one of the trio despite being underneath a Crypt with no foreseeable way of escaping anytime soon.

'_We wait.' _Damian beckoned with one hand without difficulty. The other two were tightly clung against one-another, with West being the most affected about their underground position. He was sure it all revolved around remaining incapable to move freely if the occasion requested it. A clear disadvantage to a Meta that had no control on moving her molecules like her predecessor (he'd intended to ask Dick about tips). Harper just kneeled herself at the other's side, no doubt offering silent comfort.

Unrelenting amounts of shouts kept coming from the world above; it had been an unpredictable situation, with no manner to depict a brutal confrontation between Soldiers from the Empire (who were most likely transporting bodies), and foolish Resistance Members (who craved vengeance of their own) in a mostly deserted area.

'_Idiots,'_ Damian though, _'all of them.' _he added with a bite. Though the details on how Brown got incapacitated weren't specific, he had a general notion to form an accurate theory. It wasn't the first time that a rebellious set of Resistance followers had went overboard once they spotted one of them in the arena. If only, it made them more reckless—dangerous.

A discreet sound came from under his gauntlet: a message from the other West that had procured his aid to their Team—an immediate improvement from his colleagues—carefully Damian answered the call, also taking note of Cain's status of the Raid because of his sudden departure of the area.

No regrets. His father would be upset, or perhaps he wouldn't; he'd no doubt Cain would at least get them some of the products on her own (the woman was not that unqualified).

He was exchanging information with Jai; so absorbed in his data that the usually alert Crime-fighter was oblivious to her pensive stare on him.

Milagro couldn't understand him the more she tried. And, at the same, she felt she could so completely that it just made her all the more exasperated with how he wasn't able to grasp the concept in favor of keeping that perpetual frown on his face, and stuck-up attitude to boot.

When the situation had imploded, Stephanie had told them to stay hidden (and they did), it hadn't taken much to keep it like that. Batgirl was the first to move, and Speedy the second to follow. They've actually done a great job, but were too far into their heads that nobody saw that hit coming except for Steph who had shielded Lian from a nasty blow against a giant sledgehammer—a sickening crack resounding against their eardrums.

Milagro had held the front as she instructed the others to guard the older woman, immediately thanking whatever moved her conscience earlier to signal a ready Irey to contact her brother to inform their situation to Night-Robin A.S.A.P.. They've yet to hear from him, so she repeated the motion once Batgirl was out for the count.

He needed to know, though a small part of her had resented him at first when he'd been called by the Batman (a man she had not that long ago thought was in reality Matches Malone but been proved wrong) for an urgent Mission that the other teen didn't faltered to obey. How dare he—the one who kept saying they were the only ones to trust and go for help—to _ditch them_ and leave them like some children to be kept under watch?

When they've been contacting the illustrious vigilante, Milagro had half a mind that they wouldn't be able to find him, less of all keep him from his task; a bitterness forming in the pitch of her stomach at his preference.

She, obviously, had been quickly proven wrong.

He'd answered on the first try, and under the sound of desperate carnage and guttural yelling she heard his voice on their shared line stating an immediate _"On my way. Stay in line." _before cutting his end.

Yep, just like that, here he was, right after giving them a hand in clearing a path so Lian could help the wounded Gothamite to safety, completely in control of their situation (or as much as it was possible anyways), and not making one reproach on their renewed hostile position.

She wondered if he was even able to finish his work ordered by Batman, but doubting it. While it might not mean something to him (since he was as emotionally capable as a sack of potatoes) it blared sirens inside her head, were her Will to find conclusion to this War kept drumming even stronger within her insides—they had a Leader that really cared and delivered—and whilst her ring remained useless, it wouldn't for long.

The faint sound of a grumbling stomach brought her out of her musings, and with fond exasperation she redirected her gaze at her friend, who sheepishly excused herself before eating another one of her packed snacks to quell her demanding metabolism.

It was getting late, and so far it didn't seem like the confrontation was going to end anytime soon, especially with them trying to find the masked heroes in their desperation for service to their madness. Glancing at her two friends Milagro chewed her lip, contemplating in asking what she was about to—at the very least Irey wouldn't feel the repercussions as much, and Lian did not look that much for the better.

'_Should we settle for the night?' _She braved herself to ask their Leader, making it a point to glance at the other two to pass her silent message.

They're hungry.

They're tired.

They're scared.

And she was a little too, her training on the other side of the border hadn't left her this prepared—the raids similar to this one not a possibility for her at her father's command.

Night-Robin glanced quickly at the others, and she found him contemplating the scenario far too long for someone so sure of himself before he nodded ever so slightly.

'_Rest; we'll take turns to keep guard.' _Not wasting time (she was a little afraid he'd change his mind), she motioned for the others with deliberate slowness until understanding shined in their tired eyes. The girls were young; it was her responsibility as the second oldest one to look after them.

'_Roger,' _Iris answered while Lian gave a thumbs up with an exhausted smile, settling herself against the tired speedster.

Quiet reigned over in their little hiding spot; the slaughter of the background dead to her ears in favor of keeping a watchful gaze on all three sleeping women.

"You've shown improvement."

Milagro's eyes popped open at the disturbance; Night-Robin's posture still keeping Batgirl's figure on the exact same position.

'_Isn't he tired? Numb? It's been hours.' _Oh, right, he'd said something—

"What?"

Eloquence be damned he didn't even flinch.

"West relayed what happened, said you took command once Brown was incapacitated and kept the front until my arrival. You did well, Reyes."

"Oh, gracias—"

"Don't fret, you've yet to achieve anything major, but it's a start."

"Like I said, _gracias._" She decided to stop him from further sticking his foot on his mouth. "Thanks you, by the way." At his narrowed gaze she explained, "You came."

"I'm your Leader, of course I did."

'_Figures; guy can't take a compliment.' _

"Still, you were busy; it couldn't be easy to leave your business behind for something like this." At his clear dismissal she shrugged the topic away. "What are we waiting for, por cierto (3)?" She'd been contemplating it since he told her.

"Assistance."

Whelp, that much she had anticipated—he could still elaborate some more.

"Right, but from who, and when?"

"-Tt-, patience."

"Right, right," she kept within whispers, eyeing his rigid limbs out of the corner of her eye, "hey, aren't you tired? Your limbs must be sore from staying like that that long."

"No."

"Oh, well, is she going to be alright? I mean, it was a pretty bad hit, and I've been thinking you haven't been wanting to move her so she doesn't get her lungs pierced or somethi—"

"Reyes," She stopped her rambling, anxious on his answer, "Quiet."

"… that it? That's all you've got to say? Seriously?"

"Sleep." He finished, dismissing her to go back to his gauntlet, and her flicker of annoyance kept ongoing.

"… you know, I've noticed a pattern with you," Milagro insisted, wanting to keep the conversation going in favor of beating the somber of the tomb against the horrible contrast of the boisterous conflict on the surface, "there's a word for what you do: 'Bisílabo'(4). You that every time you can."

"Nonsense." He said and she smiled to point at him. The young teen clicked his tongue in distaste at his poor demonstration to show the contrary and went back to ignore her.

"… it's alright to feel insecure about us, you know," Milagro began again, her restlessness slowly receding, "we weren't really that nice to you from the beginning either, that's why I thanked you for coming. It might be silly, but you being here makes us feel more confident in finding our way out."

"It should, that's why I'm here." Another voice found its way to their one-sided conversation, and Milagro's reflexes were quick to pull out her SW1911 Series from the holster on her left thigh. Another distasteful sound from her Leader came immediately afterwards, and her face refused to grin back at the grown man who was obviously doing so behind his red helmet.

"Took you long enough Hood," her companion spoke towards the intimidating figure of the Red Hood, "Reyes, put that down."

She glared back at him, not doing so out of spite for the mocking figure inching closer to her. Months staying in the same place with the (barely present) adult hadn't changed much her thoughts of him: keep your distance and guard your back.

Her instincts told her he was dangerous cunning man—ready to fire a bullet between your eyes at the least expected moment, and she was inclined to trust them.

It suddenly occurred to her that this was the only occasion they've been so close since their arrival to Gotham.

"You do that kid, less you wanna hurt yourself." Red Hood told her, completely dismissing her standing. "Ready to do this?" He went back to ignoring her, while the other only nodded, taking a firmer grasp of Batgirl and starting to edge his way towards the exit and the taller male.

"Once Brown is secured I'll come back." That threw her out the loop, and it must've shown for the way he was staring at her. "Reyes, you are to investigate what caused this sudden conflict and report your findings."

"Excuse me, what?"

"-Tt- Hood will accompany you, rest assure he will not interfere with your investigation. I expect a full report by the time of my arrival."

And just like that, he was off.

"… he—he just left—really? Ugh." She shook her head, unable to prevent her frown. "_Figures."_

"You really shouldn't be saying things you don't mean."

She blinked.

"¿Qué?(5)"

"Well, just a second ago you tell the man he has reason to trust you and how much you believe him yadda yadda yadda, and not a moment after you take it back." The Red Hood scoffed, already getting comfortable by adjusting the soles of his feet. "That's cold, even for me."

"Oh yeah? And what would you know? From what I've heard you're one to talk." Milagro was deft to answer, feeling insulted at his suggestion.

"Here's the thing about me Junior," the man continued, unaffected, "unlike you, I don't hide my contempt behind pretty smiles and nice words. I outright say what I need or don't from the start. Something you oughta learn." He gestured to the other two with a head movement. "So, you gonna wake those two, or leave the kid dry?"

"… I don't trust you." She said, already reaching towards Lian who was the closest one.

"That's a start." Red Hood stated, "And not gonna lose sleep for that, I'm just here to watch the disaster front row to keep me entertained."

"Disaster?" She squinted her eyes; her many guns burning for her hand to grip, instead of hovering over Lian.

"This little 'charade' of yours. Kid trusts you enough with solving this for him, pfft, don't understand why when you obviously suck so much."

"Care to say that again?"

"You deaf or something—or you done stalling from waking that Speedy-wannabe and Kid West over there? You know _exactly_ what I said."

Milagro tightened her shoulders against the cruelty behind his mockery.

"_What_ is your _problem?_" She asked straight to the point and the vigilante straightened his shoulders.

"You're way ahead of your league Junior, though you get a point for trying, not a total loss there. Now, personally, I've no shit against you—except you making me and my two siblings waste our time—and your weapons choice gives me just the right amount of curiosity to keep it like that; those two, on the other hand," he chatted nonchalantly, like what he was saying wasn't personally offending her or something, "I've got issues with." He paused briefly. "And I'm not the only one either."

"They haven't done _anything_ to you—_they've barely even seen you."_

"I have to remember your teenaged-peanut-size brain is not going to keep up, so I'm gonna let it go, you should do the same Gina (6); it's got nothing to do with you—won't actually mean I'll let them die if given the option if it keeps you from wetting your jammers." He cracked his neck, the sound giving her goose-bumps, and out of the corner of her eye, his weaponry of choice gleamed to remind her who she exactly talking to. "Now, I've got better things to do than hiding here, so the real question is if you're up for it." He cut her; his presence demanding she better leave the issue for the time being.

The alarms on her head blaring to stop and run.

'_It's far from over.'_ Was her promise through her eyes, already waking Lian and Irey to explain their current objective.

Fine, if Night-Robin wanted his self-proclaimed brother to keep an eye on them she'd do as told.

* * *

><p>(1) Catwoman's District.<p>

(2) " [..] you're right, you're completely right about it, and we're sorry—but"

(3) "by the way"

(4) 'Dysillabic'.

(5) "What?"

(6) "Scarface" reference.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>__ Again, very, very late update, but progress! A lot of it._


	22. The Mission Comes First The Heavy Burden

_**Author's Notes: **__I won't lie, this chapter was heavy on angst, and everything, and so exhausting to write, but it's been one of the Chapters that the story was intended to have from the very beginning. Progress, and many things answered too. Very excited as we're practically entering the second Part of the whole thing, and had been wanting to write this since Chapter I. Be wary of all angst and a lot of internal monologue. _

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, Violence, and implications of Human decomposing and Death._

_Wednesday February 5th, 2014 Words: 5,041._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXII.- The Mission Comes First: The Heavy Burden of the Leader_

_-~?hrs. Unknown location._

How did he ended-up in these situations? Honestly, one would think he had a sign tied to his back that welcomed trouble on a 2km radius.

'_This better be it.' _Dick grumbled inside his head like a petulant child would to a visit to the dentist. He was cold and aching from walking all over the place (almost aimlessly at times), and the loud grumble of his stomach reminded him of the last time he had a decent meal since he lost his trail. If anything, it just added layers of salt to the wound, and made him grumpier by the minute.

Ducking through another pipeline on the canals he cursed under his own breath at the suspicious mold-like substance he stepped on; _'Awesome.', _he thought finding hilarity at how shitty his position just really turned-out to be.

His clothes hadn't lasted long after his encounter back on New York, already too used and old to give him much cover from the environment. Nonetheless, he was an apt boy-scout (Bat school graduate only though, Bruce never saw the Boy Scouts as something worthwhile), so finding replacement for his tired limbs had been easy—but that was how long ago? Dick contemplated, feeling another rip on the jeans he found to be miraculously near his size.

He really needed to find a way out A.S.A.P., already he could feel the nausea from lack of sleep and hunger, whereas his eye struggled with blurriness with more consistence as the clock progressed. But he was so close! Call it a hunch, but the Roma knew he was on-to-something; it was his fuel.

A new set of tubes that mixed into an intricate pattern had him at a loss for a moment too long. Squinting, he approached his new problem with a slight amount of hesitance, finding the whole thing a tad bit too unfair to place words into. It was just too funny that after all his troubles a set of pipes blocking every single way that furthered him into the septic canals was going to be his undoing.

He grinned, joyful on keeping his humor. At least that meant he was still sane, besides, the bent tubes seemed shaped-out of position unnaturally so: like someone had to restrict the path from there on.

"Sweet." He said with genuine happiness, heaving and jumping with effort towards the pile of tubes to get a better grip, only to feel vertigo at the physical strain over the mundane action.

'_Well, malnourishment will do that to Batman too.'_ Dick kept, slightly offended at how weak his body had become, and doubling his efforts to keep himself far from the ground; it was not an easy feat, what with the slimy shoes, and being so small, but a fall from this point was really out of the question so grunting with exertion he managed to get a secure grip, and squirm his way through the labyrinth of pipes surrounding him… at least enough to take a deep breath to keep at it some more after resting for a bit. As a kid, Dick had often enough found use to his lesser stature, as Robin he learned to rejoice in it when it left the villains speechless and his laugh all the greater by being outsmarted for a kid as small as himself. This? This just reminded him that throughout the infinite amount of cons' of being reduced to his 8 year-old self, there were definitely pros'.

There was no way his full-grown body woulda passed through this.

"Ergh," the acrobat wheezed in the midst of contorting his way amongst a particularly difficult post; he held his breath all the while, biting his lip when he forced a limb to strain too much.

It took time (enough to be gladly out of it) when he felt a gust of air—dirty, humid-kind-of-air—hit his sweated forehead, and instantly he increased his struggles into exiting his prison, because air meant an exit to the outside, and that meant he wasn't about to die again anytime soon. With one last intake, Batman's protégé almost fell face-flat to the nasty waters, if not for swiveling around to recover his balance like an amateur acrobat.

'_Okaaaayyyy, nobody saw that. I'm good.' _He extracted his way while carefully studying his new path; the draft of wind must've come from somewhere, but the place was too dark, and his eye too tired. Deciding that his useless eyeball was more hindrance than help he inhaled deeply and closed both pupils, trying to focus on something other than the pounding on his head.

Another breeze hit his face, and he followed the direction like a moth to a flame, ever-careful of watching his step to crawl as much as possible towards the upper left of the tunnel, where some misplaced bricks favored his stepping to climb upwards.

If felt like he was fishing rather meaninglessly when he felt it again, this time with far more strength than before, and Dick knew where to head off to. Determination alone helped him reach a bar to his left side, balancing himself between a brick and a small duct, where he found an opening the size of his fist as the responsible for the wild wind he was looking for.

"Found ya." He had nothing more to help him disintegrate the assembled pieces of block and cement but his own hands (and the scattered pieces he rumbled away like planks), so it was a no brainer when he clawed through the small hole with little to no success. He had to stop for air on more occasions than those he would be willing to admit, but kept at it, his persistence favoring his lack of energy and hours he spent in trying to make the opening bigger. He doze-off on more than one occasion (or more like blacked-out), but then finally—_finally—_he managed to crumple the old cement that only broke from his ministrations plus years of rotting, and had the space to just barely fit his body through.

Again, he persevered, squirming through his exit while ignoring his blistered hands. Light could also be seen—something that he almost whooped at, avoiding from doing it due to common sense and what little self-preservation he had left. The light, as it turned-out, was from an old-light bulb that hung limply from the other section of the Sewage Canals. Instead of feeling deterred though, Dick smiled brightly.

That meant that he was on a part connected to an active Plant: electricity, food, water—supplies, and most importantly: his target.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he stilled to grasp the concept, not wanting to let himself go off on the prospect of everything that this held-up for him. It would be far too easy to slip his cover at the opportunity of the golden pot at the end of the rainbow, and to risk capture would mean everything he did up-to this point would've been for nothing.

'_Maybe a quick nap.' _The aerialist considered once the pump of his blood returned to his regular rate, exhaustion making his eyelids drop. _'Just a little…' _It'd be on his best interests, he was sure. That decided, Dick stretched as much as he could on the vertical space he'd crawled into, deciding it would do no good to sleep on the open (electricity working would also mean maintenance, security cameras, patrol strolls that he would need to keep a close eye on). The space was far from comfortable, and the bricks were painful to his tender flesh on the pit of his stomach; the dampness was making his body shiver now that it wasn't moving, but it made no difference. Dick just stretched one of his hands for what was left of his backpack, placing it in-front of his head to cover the hole he'd made, _'just in case,' _then finally allowing himself to rest.

'_Just five minutes…'_

* * *

><p><em>-~01:24hrs. Haughton Memorial Park (Cementery), Amory, Old-Mississippi.<em>

"What'swiththesedudes?" Irey whispered once they regained their foot on the difficult terrain, signaling a couple of soldiers who were on the background keeping guard of a not-at-all-suspicious-tomb. The battle had been over hours ago, and Speedy had informed Jai about their status once it did. Last they heard it turned-out Night-Robin was otherwise preoccupied with Batman (apparently he was not supposed to ditch the Mission the Batman had given him, which totally made a lot of sense, and added some guilt too in the mix), but they've received orders from her brother to find-out what had instigated the whole fight.

In her opinion, some suckers did. People thought it was easy to just up and get what they wanted instead of planning things through. As a West, and a speedster, Iris knew the importance of taking action when it was necessary and think things over before tripping over her own feet in her haste to finish things off; it was really sad how despite the circumstances people remained blind of that.

"Better find out." Milagro answered her from behind, signaling something to Speedy too. Iris kept close attention on her friends, but could not manage to keep from glancing back at their fourth-unexpected-wheel.

Jason Todd. Now that was something that rocked her from her spot when Milagro first woke her.

The man was dangerous, if her chats with Bart had taught her something about the illusive Vigilante (she remembered how angry she'd been at the tale of how the second Robin infiltrated the Tower to kill Tim), that was it. She considered it was normal to feel wary of him—from the moment they'd set foot on Gotham and learned the Red Hood was there too.

Boy, was that something she hadn't thought of hearing either. Far as she was concerned, Jason Todd hated anything Batman-related. Though her daddy had told her it wasn't always like that.

'_Hard to believe.' _

"…Irey will take point. You ready?" Iris suddenly heard Milagro ask her, and could only hope her confused stare went unnoticed.

"Freckle-fest was too busy ogling to pay attention." Red Hood stated as if he was talking about the weather and the Meta felt her whole face burn in embarrassment.

She had not been _ogling him!_

"Iwas_not!_"

"Shhhh!" Speedy lived to her name when she clasped her gloved-hand over her mouth. A cautious look followed by a relieved sigh from Milagro confirmed the guards remained oblivious of them.

In hindsight it wasn't her best move, but she was _not _ogling the male. He was waaayyyy too old for her for starters. And evil.

So there.

"And here I thought it might've skipped a generation." Said man chatted away, and Iris couldn't turn around to glare at him faster.

"_Excuse me?" _She hissed. Milagro stepped closer to her and made to grab her arm but she shook it away from her.

"The guards are leaving." Speedy whispered at her other side.

"Iris, now's not the time for it." Milagro spoke to her again, this time grabbing her arm to look her directly in the eyes. "We need you to do this. He's counting on us."

"But—"

"_He _doesn't matter. It's just us."

"…you're right… I'msorry." She said, hiding her face briefly to glare back at the man who stood close-by not even paying them any attention (she did noticed how he was always looking at his watch). "Whatdoyouneedmetodo?"

"Take point. Once you give the clear we scout with a Wedge Formation." A moment of hesitance on their second-in-command. "You remember the formation, ¿verdad (1)?"

She nodded, her pigtails moving with her. Once she received the okay from Milagro she slipped past them, watching the recently-vacated terrain and zooming-in in a flash. It was terribly dark, but Milagro's googles were helping her with it. She had to be incredibly careful though; the ground was moist, and muddy, lots of green helping it to make her sneakers incredibly slippery and for the first time she seriously considered Night-Robin's offer to improve her get-up.

No matter now, she'll have to take a rain-check on it though. The West twin used her speed to move across the tomb, it wasn't _that_ big of a space, but the guards would come soon, _'Wedge formation, Wedge formation—oh, yeah!' _she scrambled beneath the steps, wary of what could be hidden away or how many more inside she would encounter. Luckily, there was just this one bouncer who she knocked-out efficiently (the man hadn't even noticed her), and then returned just as fast to the outside.

'_Enter.' _Once at the entry she used the tactical motion (2) Milagro had taught them before meeting with Night-Robin. Military lingo was awesome, and her eyes sparkled when she received the affirmative sign from the older girl and her friends (plus Red Hood) followed her lead.

'_Wait, are those…?' _Iris' eyes widened, _'steps! They'recomingback! Whatwastheone? Ohyeah!' _The teen scrambled through her brain, coming with the answer with the same speed of her feet. _'Faster.' _She went with first, pumping her left fist up and down. _'Listen.'_

All three of them quickened their pace, Milagro guarding her six.

'_Understood.' _The girl answered, _'cover me.' _she then commanded to her, turning later towards Lian, who was about to reach the speedster. _'Move forward.' _Milagro went to Lian, who hesitantly did as she was told, and then was next to Irey, who welcomed her inside the tomb. The steps were growing louder, filled with a murmur of words, then their friend did something neither were expecting.

She turned to Red Hood.

'_You.' _Iris and Speedy watched her friend take a better hold of her pistol with one hand, the other making the gestures for the ex-Robin (for a minute there Irey thought maybe the older man didn't know what they were speaking, but then thought 'Batman'). _'Come Here'._

A sigh escaped both her and Lian's lips when the Vigilante did as he was told with far more leisure than she thought the situation needed.

'_Two Elements. Rifle.' _The Hispanic went through motions like she was in her element. _'Down.' _And the man followed, soon the chatting became clearer, but it was quick as a lighting—and for a Speedster that was saying something—that Milagro gave the order and Red Hood struck first, immobilizing the taller (a sick crack was heard and she winced) of the two males and dispatching of his weapon. Milagro took advantage of the other's surprise at the sudden attack and jumped at the back of the other one, gripping at the neck with all her might until the man fumbled to his knees and fell unconscious to the floor.

Their second-in-command glared at him, but it went without care as he shrugged his shoulder and mimicked something that seemed to be _'force-of-habit', _then went searching for ammo (and scoffing at the rifle, apparently it wasn't of his taste).

'_Regroup.' _She continued after a brief pause and taking the ammo herself. Once inside with the rest of them Iris could see the repent in those brown eyes. She clearly hadn't wanted them to see that.

'_Wedge formation.' _And off they went, Iris showed them as far as she had gotten, antsy and ready for movement when they came to the bottom. _'Cover our advance' _She ordered Lian, who confirmed and readied her bow.

"_What do you think?" _Iris whispered once they came-up empty. Three coffins made out from stone decorated the whole square, and she wrinkled her nose at the clammy air. Perhaps she could also reconsider wearing a mask?

"_Not sure." _A frown visible from her mask. "_They must've been hiding something besides some bodies."_

"_Maybethey'reimportant?" _She asked, the same feeling of anxiousness from being in a closed-space filling her. "_Orhavesomethingonthem._"

"_Good thinking." _Milagro approached the one in the left with a studious expression. "Now about opening it…"

Iris frowned, the seal was completely shut on the one in the middle she was looking at. She suspected it was the same for it's twins. "_Doyouhaveanything, um, pointy?" _

"_Well, I've got my knife_—"

That brought a full grin on her face and then she was at her friend's side; hand extended.

"Sweet. _MindifIuseit?" _After looking at her with clear confusion Milagro took a big knife from one of her many straps on her legs, and gave it to her. "_Just, give me some space._" Was her only warning before moving the blade to the crevice where the coffins once opened and running over repeatedly enough to create a whirlwind until a noise told them she had opened it. Feeling ecstatic, she reeled a little after her abrupt stop to face a grinning Milagro.

"_Great thinking." _She praised her, and Iris puffed under the compliment, keeping her eyes peeled to the surface that her friend was opening with a heave. All at once the stone fell to the side, the noise making all three girls wince and the Red Hood scoff what might've been an exasperated "Amateurs," just before gasping at the sight.

"_It's—food!Lotsofit!" _The redhead barely diminished through a whisper, rummaging with the other girl finding packs upon packs of canned food and packed supplies that could last them months. _"Oh my—is this __**bacon?**__"_

"Of all the places…" Milagro whispered at her side, flabbergasted herself.

Who could blame her? Why would somebody hide food here? Granted, it was an amazing spot for hide-and-seek but.

"The temperature here makes it easier to keep it from rotting, the dirt keeps it moist enough that what does have some scent can be easily hidden, and it's easy to keep guard of a place nobody would actually enter. It's like a giant refrigerator." Red Hood told them with only the slightest exasperation edging his voice.

"That makes sense…" she stated plainly, almost salivating at the prospect of bacon. It didn't help that her stomach agreed quiet loudly for it.

"Irey, open the other two, I'll contact Jai." Milagro said, already making the call to her brother. Once the Meta finished with the other two boxes that also held the same treasure inside Milagro was ending the conversation, tossing her some folded trash-plastic-bags from her backpack.

"Take everything," then she went with Lian, who kept a steady gaze on the entrance; her bow at the ready, "both of you. We'll scout for trouble and keep you clear. Move everything to our spot and give us the clear when you're done. This is going to be a long night." She said, taking a step towards the entrance with Red Hood sighing dramatically and muttering under his breath.

"Aye, aye ma'am!" She and Speedy saluted and went to their chores. The raven would keep watch for anything that moved, while she took care of piling everything inside the bags.

She was weary of Milagro being alone with the Gothamite, but trusted her enough to keep her orders and make haste.

After all, it was what speedsters did best.

* * *

><p><em>-~?hrs. Unknown location.<em>

'_Oh, rats.' _Dick thought, grimacing at the pull on his column. He'd been following the lights, dodging a couple of hidden cameras just so, and trap zing around some workers with strange attires all the way. Right now wasn't the time to feel the accustomed wave of pain hitching to his brain.

Not with some meats beneath him frighteningly static. Seriously, Dick had seen more guards on his lifetime to recognize something was off; and those six standing watch were definitely _off._

They've been on the same _exact _position, for the better part of two hours—not even moving one centimeter. They were also creepily staring at the floor on their own formation points. _He _was already feeling stiff on his spot, but had assumed they would switch watch enough for him to maneuver through the motions.

'_Apparently not.' _He discovered, frowning with the idea he'd been toying when they refused to show life-patterns for the first hour. It would need to be enough, his clear advantage was their lack of diligence to anything above knee-length. But he could see where a couple of cams were covering that aspect at his 11' and 2 o'clock. The only option was taking the long venue, he spotted on his left, it gave him just so the space to maneuver far from their security's side; he would just need to trust the guards' inability to move their eyes above their head, and his tired muscles to keep him suspended between both enemies sights.

'_No problemo.' _ The first steps were easy, but then it always was at the beginning. It was more than armed-men, or rusty cameras, Dick had been battling his aching body more than he could stand for, then, abruptly, he felt as though he'd been taken out of the water; his lungs almost collapsing at the unexpected relief that washed him all over, soothing the pain away as if by magic that left him almost falling head-straight into some guy's helmet. Eyes wide from the sudden burst of energy, and liberation, he trembled, truly frightened at the change.

There hadn't been a day when he'd felt healthy—like his old self, and now out of the blue he was; just like that.

'_No.' _He chanted, trying to find his wits to locate one smidge of pain that grounded him to the spot, only to be disappointed. There was nothing. Scared out of his mind, he rushed to the end of his path, afraid that the pain would come back now that it was gone—he didn't want it anymore. Not again. Not ever.

'_The job's not over, focus on that.'_ He forced his mind out of the fearful spot he was stuck, crawling like a monkey to the bottom of the first camera and playing the cables. It served its purpose when it kept him from the marvels of healthiness, and then done with it, he went to the other.

Now to get in.

Funny thing about getting-in, it felt easier than finding where _exactly_ was in. Constructors were always leaving him and anyone with a watchful eye something to help themselves, and easy-as-pie he got through the doors, rearranging the loose tubes he'd extracted from the iron bars just behind the cameras (blind-spot even) to finally enter. From his glimpses inside there wasn't much security, he wondered for virtually a second once his eye caught the huge tank-made-out-of-glass filled with a strange orange liquid in the corner of the reduced space.

The room was not square, what with being on the Sewers Canal, but had more of an oval-shape to it. Different sets of medical tables, looking frigid and impeccable were in-between the blank spaces, scribbled notes and equations on top of them with medical instruments that were off-for the worse.

The walls weren't anything fancy either, and Dick was sure the place would just _reek _of waste with the sick mixture of colors that point-out signaled mold and rust. There wasn't any noise but the constant beep of the machine that covered about half of the chamber, and if he had taken care in paying close attention, would be able to see the discarded gauzes and bloodied thread over the floor. Instead, the aerialist wavered and fell to his knees; a surge of emotions coursing through his entire body, completely unable to peel his eye from the tank.

'_Check for cameras. Check for evidence, quick!' _The Romani repeated to himself over and over, still incapable of doing more than stare.

He grunted, concluding his gaping like a fish to actually do his job of reconnaissance before he was caught. Now that would be ironic.

It turned-out that there were, in fact, several cameras, just not on the base of his made-out door _on _the door, and he was careful to manipulate them, even if his eye returned to the tank every thirty-seconds; now afraid of losing it from his sight. No fingerprints were left, and he kinda doubted the people here would take notice of any blood trail he'd leaked from his back given the already immersed spatters of coagulated blood everywhere. On the list of his few possessions were some bat-toys for these type of situations. Nothing to get him out of a tight spot like handy weapons, but Intel-equipment to keep him—and the others—on the loop should it be necessary.

Taking a deep breath coupled with a heavy heart Dick sent the signal, confident on the contraption's capability to lead the message successfully, no matter where he was even if it might take a couple of days.

Dick was done. His Mission a success, though never before had he felt so miserable with the fact. With a hollow heart he battled his urges to _do _something and did the exact opposite.

Robin headed back.

Later, much later, he was finally out (maybe a couple of days or so). His accustomed pain had come back the moment he crossed the place where it left him—it made no difference. The fear the man used to have at having the ache return had vanished when encountered with the fear of heading back. In the end, he had placed the continuity of his task ahead of his own desires, just like Bruce had taught him.

His heart still clenched painfully despite it.

The morning air hit him like a slap to the face, because it just hit him then.

He was out. He was out, and he wanted nothing more than to get _in _again and get—

"Dick." He lifted his face, taken-out of his reverie to find Jason offering him a hand, for once without his silly helmet. The man looked worse for the wear, almost like he'd been days on the road without stopping to catch his breath, and he, he was on the ground, having crawled-out from the gutter, no doubt a mess and stinking of decay.

At least Jason had an air mask like his own, he contemplated briefly before the hand made another motion of reaching him.

"We received your memo. Come on, I've got a box of cereal just for you. Looks like you really need it." The message, then that meant—Dick swallowed, taking his brother's hand and bypassing how the grip held a tremor once it noticed the blisters on his hands.

"Thanks." He just wanted to eat, Jason's help was appreciated (how long ago had he eaten something as delicious as cereal?) so he made an attempt to demonstrate his appreciation only to be stopped short when the grown man pulled him brusquely to the side of the road, towards some hidden branches were he probably had his motorcycle or jet hidden.

Hurray for the jet-part. It was the smallest Bruce had on his brief time on the cave, which made him wonder if the Batman had been under the knowledge of Jason's acquisition.

"Here, take this; you stink." Jason threw him a towel, but apparently changed his mind when he decided to clean his face himself. Dick sat obediently like a good child would through his brother's ministrations, time-span a haze that had him with the Red Hood's jacket over his shivering frame; his abrasions cleaned and bandages replaced.

It did little to keep the cold away.

A hesitant hand on his shoulder from Jason made him blink.

"… I'm sorry… if… if you wanna—I mean, shit," Jason fumbled through his words, making Dick notice the angry scowl behind his brother's actions.

It made sense, Jason also had a reason to feel just as bad.

"It's okay," Dick swallowed, patting the hand awkwardly. He'd yet to cry, and he wasn't gonna do it now.

"Dick, it's not okay." Jason digressed, shaking his head and massaging the end of his nose too, keeping a reasonable distance between them. "It's_ Donna._"

Her name but a whisper made Dick bite his tongue and scratch his head at the sudden assault of emotions.

Of course it wasn't okay. Jason was right: it was Donna, but it was also the Mission that took precedence over her broken body floating in that big-_stupid-stinking-flask _with a machine that beeped in tune with her slow heart-rate echoing within the walls.

"Not saying it wasn't easy leaving her, Jason," he kept, avoiding the other's eyes, "_it __**wasn't. **_But we can't risk it _now. We __**can't.**_"

"… fine. Doesn't mean we have to straight-out pretend it's okay either. There weren't pics of her on your report—"

"She's in _suspended animation_—breathing through a tube in some nasty waters like she's on _exhibition_ in a room that stinks like I do, why would we need a pic of _**that?" **_Dick hissed, letting his anger-out at the really stupid question behind Jason's words. Silence met his harsh words, and guilt started to itch his way, at the off-put Red Hood. "I did what I had to do. Case closed."

"…fine. Just wash yourself again, you fuckin' stink." Jason threw over his shoulder, stopping from sitting on the Pilot's sit in-front of him (jet was small for two only). "Look, just…" A sigh, "don't fret over it. Like you said, you did what you had to. At least she's alive, and will be kicking ass when we move-in to get her."

"Yeah… thanks for getting me by the way," Dick nodded, preferring on removing the stench that reminded him in what exactly was Donna floating around, "mustn't been easy with everyone back home."

"No biggie, the brat came back from Gotham early, so I just left him your cargo of ragamuffins and came here." Jason said, but the time spent in establishing his message was left-out. The man had taken at least a day to go and get him, even with the jet on his possession.

"Dick."

A glance at Jason, who was looking ahead from him, about to start the engine.

"We'll get her back. I promise."

Dick nodded and scratched the odor with more force than he needed while hiding a glare. It went without saying that they would not be the ones rescuing Donna.

_**He **__would._

* * *

><p>(1) [..] right?"<p>

(2) For reference they're using the "Tactical Hand Signals". You can find pics here: www . teletechbrave . proboards thread / 90

_**Author's Notes: **__ Finally~! By the way, I love Donna and Dick's brother-sister relationship, just putting it out there._


	23. Setting Pride Aside

_**Author's Notes: **__While short, this Chapter contains the prelude to the next one, so it's just heavy on one part communicating and making arrangements to another one. It's also not really that edited, so there might be editing later on. It's mostly so we can go ahead with the big one that's up next. _

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, heavy angst, and a lot of plotting._

_Monday February 17__th__, 2014 Words: 2,862._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXIII.- Setting Pride Aside._

_-~ 22:01hrs. Unknown location (five weeks later)._

"Decide; _now_."

"Bruce,_ you can't expect us to give you an answer—" _

"You've been briefed." He cut the woman off, mildly irritated. "Time is no longer an option, Oracle."

"… _I'm sorry, Bruce—I, we can't." _

"_*Connection dropped*." _ The computer informed him while his grip on the wheel tightened. He'd predicted Oracle's lack of assistance before adding her to the equation; too many uncertainties and broken pacts to rely on past confidants, but the Dark Knight was still disappointed. Allies were scattered—what was left of them—and the ones that remained neutral were only running amok without interest in contributing assistance.

He grunted, thinking again of Selina. She'd yet to contact him regarding their last meeting, going from avoiding his calls, to completely vanishing from Gotham. Bruce knew the game she was playing was a dangerous one; the Heads weren't sane enough to keep company, so the space she had been keeping with them was acceptable to a point.

Glaring ahead he was absolutely sure four months was past that point. The thief hadn't even attempted to contact Alfred, or Cassandra (both whom Selina had clearly shown affection for), and it bordered him to the point of worry. While there hadn't been much activity rivaling what was normal save from the unconvincing attempt of breaking into the Asylum (also months ago) on his City, Bruce knew something was broaching—and fast. Without his only ally in-between enemy lines to help him shield his Company, his own Investigations, and those of his children's, the former Billionaire was left alone to brace against the indefinite impact.

Much was changing: when less than a year ago he could afford the small indulgence of knowing he was prepared, the Batman didn't have the luxury of option now, too filled with uncertain variables, unreliable sources and taxing investments revolving around his Operations. He was growing tired and weary of this game—becoming used to this way of living that had been prolonged far too long.

Oracle wasn't his last option, nor had she been the first—he certainly knew it wasn't going to be the last time he'd give her an option to partake on their plans—regardless, with Selina M.I.A. he was one ally short.

It worried him.

His control board flashed once before he opened communications. Batman had half a guess on 'Who' was on the other line.

"_Father."_

"Night-Robin." Batman addressed, about reaching his destination and with half-a-mind on closing communications with his son; Oracle hadn't been accounted on his list, but this one was—he couldn't afford losing this contact. Even for his son's taxing investments.

"_Black-Bat has yet to confirm my petition for Investigation that could hold answers regarding the Lamp." _His son went straight to the point, and he hummed his understanding of the fact. Cassandra was on the other side of the World, running errands for the upcoming tide-wave, with no-one to report but him, and she was also the Second-in-Command with him gone.

"Percentage of success?" He asked, knowing the teen would bypass the established chain-of-command that left Tim in charge: he was almost reaching his meeting point too.

"_Less than 2%." _It had been the highest rate nevertheless, good reason to leave his son pondering the option. _"The deploy area is of High risk, nearby Capitol Buildings—"_

"Take your Team and report to Batgirl." The man interrupted the unnecessary report from his child; Damian was capable of handling himself if the need came, and he had reason to prioritize any lead that could aid them find the annoying device. Regardless of what his Soldiers thought of him, Bruce trusted their judgment (half of it at least), and Damian had no reason to go through his detailed list of reasons of why he should be granted with permission to convey a mission for his own team—and the good it would bring to their war effort in the long term. "You've permission for all the necessary equipment should the situation turn for the best or worst. Will be expecting a full-report of your Assignment when I arrive to Gotham."

"… _of course, Father. Night-Robin out."_

Moving his fingers towards the console, he opened another connection, waiting with little patience for the other party to answer. He kept his reservations with Damian's less than adequate team, more so because they instilled certain thoughts on his mind he was better left without, but soon that would need to change, and found himself contemplating (again) the risks of managing their team to War.

"_Yes, Master Bruce?" _Alfred answered with readiness.

"Alfred, make sure Damian and the girls take Lucius' enhancements. I'm sure you've already been informed they're leaving soon."

"_Certainly, Master Bruce. You needn't to worry about anything. It's good that you called, actually, with the atmosphere so bleak I've been wondering if some flowers could be of use on the cave. Maybe you could find some before heading back?"_

That stopped him for a moment, before nodding.

"Of course, Alfred, Batman out." Now that was an interesting development, he'd need to thank Alfred later with an assortment of his packed tea (maybe send Stephanie for a cargo once she got better) of preference. It might also prove wrong his deductions about Selina avoiding contact.

He might get something out of it too.

* * *

><p><em>-~ 23:34hrs, Somewhere on the North of Mexico, Mexico.<em>

"Took you enough time eh Wayne," El Gaucho said, clearing his rough throat as he uncrossed his arms from leaning against a trashcan and headed towards him. The years had taken good care of him, from the way the man kept his stroll intact and resources just as his investigations had led him to believe. When the group of allies he'd formed dispelled over the years, Bruce had kept track on all of them. El Gaucho was one of the few that managed to evade his trail two times during this bleak period, but once he found his for the third time, the former Billionaire was resilient to let go of his tail. Though both men weren't on the best of terms—nor did they parted on them either—he knew Santiago Vargas was a good man.

"You're not exactly easy to reach." Yet, his location was obvious when it really came to it. The Batman got out from his car, his pace strong to speak his intents for him. He'd stated his visit's purposes towards the prior Superhero, and Vargas had agreed to concede a meeting point to test the idea out.

"¡Ja! And I intend to keep it that way. Ahora (1), tell me what's this really about? How come you suddenly decided—"

"Dick came back." He'd long decided to be blunt about it. Though in the past El Gaucho was far more friendlier towards most of his allies, and had some reservation in store for the closest to him, the Venezuelan had taken a liking to his charge quickly—as did everyone else. At this point, there was no reason to doubt his allies by hiding something as big from them.

"….¡jajajaja! Right, and then you'll tell me you have that Reyes girl too?" Vargas shook his head in amusement, though the Gothamite could see the so-called 'joke' was not amusing at all like he portrayed; a thinly veiled resentment hid behind his inclined head, and the Hispanic man made his distaste obvious.

It mattered not to Bruce. Batman _didn't_ joke.

"Just when I thought the years wouldn't change an old tight-ass like you. Tsk, tell me the real reason I'm here, Wayne. _Ahora_."

"That's it. My son came back months ago. And yes, Milagro Reyes is also under our care." He decided to raise an eyebrow to hide his growing impatience at having to play-nice with a man that exasperated him as much as he exasperated him himself. "More specifically, under my youngest's new Team, along with Lian Harper, and both Jai, and Iris West." At the other's open-mouthed reaction, he decided to step further into the shadows; while the area was tranquil and desolated, he'd preferred to avoid detection from any stray. "We can get into the details of that once we discuss our main project."

"Wait just a goddamn second, Wayne. You're not lying at this, aren't you?" El Gaucho recomposed himself, an angry scowl above a graying mustache. "Éstas son acusaciones severas (2)—if you're telling the truth then those are the '_details' _I want to go over first." He finished, pointing accusingly at his chest.

"It's as I've said. Through some unknown reason we found Dick alive in Omicron-Metropolis months ago. He's been reverted to an 8 to 9 year-old stage of him, but remains his memories of his life." Batman avoided from growling out, finding satisfaction in knowing his comrade took note of his loath of speaking of his son's state.

"Is he—"

"Dick is mutilated, and left with Monocular Blindness. He left Gotham and when Night-Robin—Damian—found him, he'd already recruited Milagro Reyes, Iris West, and Lian Harper." He paused, watching the other digest the information he would not be kind enough to repeat. "Then, they went on the task of finding Reyes' Green Lantern's Ring, before coming back to Gotham."

"Wait—Green Lantern's Ring?! The girl is a Lantern?!"

"_Keep your voice down_." Batman all but hissed and the man glared back, obviously swallowing an insult. "She's presumably the bearer, though while we have the ring, the Lantern to provide the energy is missing." Batman said, calming down once he regained his patience. "Night-Robin's in charge of the Team, and of the investigation on finding it."

"Heh," The other man whisked half-a-laugh while he remained impassive, "no wonder you came with that Plan of yours." A look towards him. "Fine, you got my interest, now fill in the details."

He'd not ask for proof, something Bruce was prepared to count for, yet, instead of making him doubt his assistance it compelled him to increase his rate of success.

By the time both men were done exchanging information, and parting words, Bruce could release the tension he'd been carrying as he made to cross the border that divided both Countries to head to his own:

Santiago Vargas, a.k.a. 'El Gaucho', was accounted for.

* * *

><p><em>-~ 07:52hrs, Paris Nord Train Station, Old-Paris, France.<em>

"_So you're in the clear?" _Dick asked through the coms while Bilal kept digging through his bag for his _stupid-stupid _USB. He'd yet to make peace knowing who was on the other side—the man had practically _trained him—_but was making progress with it. At least he'd stopped falling silent for prolonged lapses after the child's voice reached his end.

"Ouais (3), Gabrielle jus' finished roundin' some people that'll help the other day. We're good as ready." Maybe he'd left it on his other bag? If there was one thing he couldn't get the hand of, was keeping his important things in separate places—another tip from his Mentor and friend—given he'd always forget where was each.

It proved useful a good amount full of times to compensate the headache; he'd yet to completely loose something to the enemy for his caution on his information's secure spots. Another tip was never having said important information all guarded-up in one place. Normal people couldn't do much with some garbles of extracted info here and there.

"_Phew, you've got no idea how much this means, man,"_

"Um, je think I kinda do. That's the whole point on the operation." He chatted amicably as he rummaged through some dirty socks—really, who'd search there?

A snicker, and Bilal found a smile stretching on his lips.

"_Yeah, you're right, but I still don't think you value your help much Bilal—you're practically running the whole operation there."_

"There's always Lucius. I don't actually think we'd be having this conversation if it weren't for—ha! Je te trouve! (4)"

"_Um, what _exactly _did you find? Not misplacing your tracks, are you?" _

Bilal almost grimaced at the teasing tone, _of course _Dick would know.

"Ah, nah, of course not, I was jus' lookin' for my… socks?"

"_Suuureeee, at least a troll didn't stole them. They tend to leave one behind, and that's just nasty business calling."_

"… de quoi tu parles?(5)" Bilal settled for asking after staring at his treasure for a while. Sometimes Dick just sprung random facts out of nowhere and he liked keeping on the loop.

The aerialist also tended to make fun of him, but Bilal had summarized it came with the age regression. He wasn't stupid.

"_Hey, it's true; trolls tend to steal socks, but only one of the pair, who knows why."_

"Ahh, okay, so, you sure you don't me going to Oracle? She might—"

"_No. Batman's already taken care of that…" _A tired and fairly disappointed sigh, _"she's still not going to help us."_

"Oh—okay, then I guess we'll have to wait a bit more eh? At least we're ready, but, are we going to really move that fast?"

"_Yeah. I'll send you notice for our first strike, it's good to know you're prepared to cover for us while we make things messier, thanks a lot, Bilal, seriously."_

The French man had to smile at that, adding the final piece on his computer database so he could see the final project. They were being much more ambitious—maybe, but he'd survived a Revolution on his Country before War enveloped them, and the he rose again in that time of need. Now he at least had his allies back and strong; they could do this.

"You've nothing to thank for mon ami (6), jus'," he took a deep breath, adding the last of his report in a manner of minutes before sending his part to the waiting acrobat so he could read the reports on the flesh, "take care of yourself… last time you didn't answered,… at least not right away." Bilal amended when Dick failed to respond his comment. He didn't want to upset the man, but knew it was too important to let it go by. "Does Batman know?" He said, pushing his limits.

"… _I don't know."_

"Oh." Maybe he should've thought better than to ask, it mustn't be easy living with that fear—

"_Will respond A.S.A.P. when I get your memo, again, thanks, and also, don't worry, I'll try to answer right away next time. Take care, Spearhead (7) out."_

"…merde (8)."

* * *

><p><em>-~07:58hrs. New Capital of San Francisco, California.<em>

"_I keep reminding you, 'we. Don't. Know'. It's getting harder to keep him back as it is." _Red Hood scowled after Net's reprimand. He'd been searching for clues of Delta in a city that was completely overtaken by the Empire for the past two days, and he'd yet to feel comfortable in it.

Plus, the woman's 'know-it-all' attitude was really bugging him.

"There's no option. Two is _not_ an option." He whispered, repositioning his feet on the roof he'd selected for the next couple of minutes with already another one in mind. The man could hear the patrols in the background; the whole city a fuzz of (surprisingly) heavy-structured security guarding the streets. He'd yet to reason _why _the Enemy hadn't thought of teaching the forces to search up-high.

Not complaining though, if they remained stupid, the better for him.

"_Don't insult us—we wouldn't accept it otherwise." _Again with that condescending mouth… _"But we need to change our strategy; we'll get nowhere, and then our only option won't even be one."_

A frown. He knew that—but it wasn't that easy, and he couldn't hold himself accountable if their 'Plan D' (for 'Deception') failed. He'd never forgive himself, and they were so close…

"The kid is in charge of our last tip," Jason informed his ally, waiting for any reaction and interpreting her silence for one, _'Weak spot confirmed.' _"He headed with the ragamuffins yesterday, if it doesn't give us any leads we'll go with 'Plan D'."

"… _they have three days, and you better hope they don't find anything, or it's on your conscience, I'll set everything for 'Plan D' and let Mage be ready." _She had that recriminating tone on her again—like he was her kid who did a bad thing, and Jason clicked his tongue in distaste, knowing the woman was acting on hurt alone, and that she would do her end of the bargain.

"You better get your act together before the shit hits the fan, because if not, then it keeps being '_in your conscience'._" Then Jason cut-off from the line, not the last bit repentant of his words.

Everything had been initially out from her own failure—_everything. _If she thought he'd be the only one with a heavy weight on his shoulders and just brush-off hers, he would remember her how Jason Todd _never_ forgot.

And _**never**_ forgave.

* * *

><p>(1) "Now."<p>

(2) "This are serious accusations—"

(3) "Yeah,"

(4) "I found you!"

(5) "…what are you talking about?"

(6) […] my friend,"

(7) C_odename of Dick-Batman. See Detective Comics Annual 012 and Batman Annual 028. Also see "Chapter II.- A Bird's Cut Flight" for first use._

(8) "…shit."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>__ So there we go. _


	24. Breaking Beta

_**Author's Notes: **__This is too exciting. This chapter brings joy, really, it was bordering since the first one. Hopefully you'll enjoy. _

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, heavy angst, slight gore, and a sickening amount of fluff I can't even._

_Monday February 24__th__, 2014 Words: 4,125._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXIV.- Breaking Beta._

_-~14:54hrs._ _Fortress of Solitude. Kal-El's Home and Second Base to the Empire (2 days later)._

The alarm's sudden blaring woke him so abruptly that he fell from his bed like a fool. He heard Lois grumble on the bed, the mattress shifting in tune with her body his only warning to her getting up before he did, and slamming the bathroom door behind her. He sighed, again in a bad mood. Fumbling to reach his clothes, the man of steel floated towards the screen that demanded his attention. Clark had a terrible feeling on the pitch of his stomach concerning this disturbing call— there hadn't been one since months ago; it hadn't been with good news.

"—_rk! C—k, a—swer! *Zzzztttzz*" _The interference was blocking Canary's face, but he'd tied that voice to her immediately.

"I'm here, what happened?" He asked raising his voice; with all that noise on her background and the static on both sides he thought it was necessary.

"_C—*zzzztt* —rk! Can y—*zztttzzzzzzzz* me?!" _ Clark sighed, frustrated. This was not working.

"Bring someone over to fix this, now!" He yelled at the speaker button on his bedside. Ollie had remarked on his lack of personnel once, and he'd told the blond he was all that was needed. Queen had just shrugged him off, probably declaring him a fool with a colorful language in that blond head of his, and when nobody answered his command on the other side he cursed the archer's ill words.

There was no-one to call.

Suiting-up at light speed, Clark flew straight to Metropolis, not even bothering to let Lois know of his departure. On the other hand, he arrived in record-time, and then went ahead with powerful intent, avoiding the perplexed faces on the personnel of the Daily Planet that lingered on his floor. They obviously knew something was off.

Anger made his eyes glow a dangerous red.

So why wasn't anyone telling him?

"Contact Black Canary!" He yelled, flying to his office, where he could find the privacy he needed; in the background he could hear the affirmatives, never doubting they wouldn't do as he said. Once there, he went to sit, waiting for the blonde Meta to call him here.

He started tapping his fingers with growing annoyance; Clark didn't understand why it was taking such a long time to get a hold of the woman. Couldn't they see this was an emergency? After what appeared to be forever his screen started sizzling and he gritted his teeth in remaining frustration, not understanding why even here the image wasn't clear at all.

"_Cl—aar—*zzzzzzttz*! Wh—*zzttzz*a—*zzzz* —ou *zzzzzzzzzzttttttzzzzzz*!" _What was the matter with her connection anyway?

"Someone better come in here and fix this!" He shouted at another intercom that was sure to reach someone on his same floor.

"_Sorry, my Lord! Right away, my Lord!" _ More background noise before the call got disconnected, then it was to wait for another five minutes more than he had to before a hesitant knock came to his door. Superman ushered the Engineers inside, letting them fret over some cables as they took the screen and its connections apart. They apparently took turns to see if the problem was fixed, but nothing they did made it right, and the Man of Steel was losing his patience. Already more than an hour passed, several attempts at communicating with the woman failing miserably.

When the first tries at regaining the connection weren't fairing any better, one of the three queasy men suggested locating Canary; Superman had ordered him to do it, but then it seemed they just _couldn't _do it. He heard many "it's not possible", "how is it doing this?" "what's happening?" "I don't understand—!" to know these three wouldn't be able to do anything, and an unexplainable dread filled him— what else was he supposed to do? Asides from miraculously figuring out where was Canary there wasn't any way he could go help their situation. He didn't even know what the situation _was_. This never happened before, so what _was _going on?

From his desperation he called other technicians, hoping they would find the problem and fix it, but then again they couldn't. They kept walking from this place to another, bringing technical things with them—disassembling and reassembling who knows what, and he was at the end of his rope.

"For crying out loud, just what the heck is the matter with you?!" Ollie's voice rang loud and clear, suddenly marching towards him out of nowhere (he was supposed to be elsewhere, Clark couldn't remember where exactly, but that was Canary's work), face red in anger and that mustache wrinkling in-tune with his lips. Clark was really too out of it, not actually even hearing the man approach his office—less of all _marching_ into it.

"Dinah's been trying to get a load of you and you're just floating there?!" The sudden aggression caught him off-guard. "What's with all these circus around you?! Get out— all of you mediocre bums! You! Just drop that stupid thing and go!" Ollie yelled angrily as he pointed to the last worker who had looked unsure of what to do with some cable things and then just did like he was told.

They scurried to the exit, frantic in their feet, and closed the door after them, now Clark was facing a livid Ollie and their parts were switched. When had _Ollie _looked at him like that?

Only before the Empire; he'd been good controlling that awful temper of his because he still had things dear to him that Clark could take away. His anger rose when he remembered that.

_He _was in charge.

"Change your tone, Ollie—and do it fast." Superman ordered, his eyes glowing again at a negative. "_What_ is Canary doing?"

Ollie didn't even look scared.

"Can you forget your goddamn status for a fuckin' second?!" The blonde pointed at him accusingly. "Listen Kent, I don't know what the hell you're hiding, or making Dee do, but you damn well better step-up!" Then he tossed something at him—a cellphone, Ollie's cellphone— cussing his way out, not bothering in throwing him another look.

Just what was going on? Was he dreaming…?

"_Ollie just put Clark on the phone!" _Dinah's cry broke him from his trance and he placed the utensil to his ear out of habit (he could hear her fine without it by some miracle).

"_What_ is going on Canary?" He repeated for the tenth time. He could still hear disorder in the background though definitely more sedated than before.

"_You don't get to speak to me like that, Clark." _Dinah back talked to him too. _"I told you we needed to keep the place secure— I _told you_ it was better to move—"_

His face went white at the implications when the woman struggled to keep her temper.

"… _they're calling a Meeting for you, and Diana— who's also being a pain to find. Try to not keep them waiting." _

"Is—"

"_And no, Clark. Before you ask, there's nothing left. Need to take care of the remnants… Bruce beat you; you were too late." _Then she cut him off, hollering orders and then losing her signal, while being transferred to another line.

"_**Kent."**_The ominous voice of their Lord hissed at him, and he fell to the chair behind him in exhaustion.

When all had go wrong…?

* * *

><p><em>-~Unknown location (8 hours earlier…)<em>

Okay, next to get that mixed set of pipes to cooperate, Dick reasoned, craning his neck to both sides with a loud crack to get ready. Then, he jumped, barely making a dent with his harsh landing on the old pipes— not that it mattered, because this time he was prepared, and damages to the foundations went without a care.

The first cut he made with the improved Batarang came with the screech of old metal resonating over the tunnels; the laser masking the action for cutting butter for breakfast. He'd to clear a path fit enough for one person which took _a lot_ of work, and left him more uncomfortable in the tight space.

Bruce had taught him when in tight-closed-spaces to not let his mind panic, yet, even when he'd used that piece of training numerous times he still reeled from time to time, because covered in filth and perspiration brought him more heat, and made the humid atmosphere more protuberant to his senses.

'_Your mind is your greatest weapon.' _

To say he was elated half-way was an understatement. '_Now to put these things to use,'_ he huffed, cleaning the sweat on his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. The cuts on the ducts had been precise, making it easier to fold and weld the bigger parts with the heat of the Batarang after tampering with its temperature to achieve his goal: an odd-looking shield.

His rope was used to keep the armor secure against the small of his back, then he continued his pace, using the Batarang when before contorting had been his only option. With _gusto_ to spare, Dick felt the same draft hit his face: more than enough to reassure his paranoia.

Stopping—so as to not fall on his face or flail his arms like an idiot _again,_ the aerialist took another set of Batarangs, this time knowing the path was to his upper left, and embedding the sharp objects along the wall, where the bricks had helped form a very improvised ladder before; now, however, his steps were secured, and the dim-light on the center of the devices helped his sight on the pitch-black terrain.

Finding the small duct where he left his hand-made tunnel was easier now, and he made to place the last of the Batarangs for this path to reach it.

He was unable to actually _fit, _what with his shield prominent on his back, then again, he didn't had to worry about it, using the first Batarang to decimate the receding debris that stood on his way. On the back of his mind, he couldn't help consider how pathetic was his first trial, an unpleasant nausea setting at the pit of his stomach at the dried blood that he came across while making his way through. Bruce's toys put his own hands to shame; some nails still having to grow from that desperate time to _just get through. _

'_Focus,' _those thoughts were dangerous; better left in the back of his mind to dwell later—not now. Even with Bruce's equipment this took easily an hour to clear through, making the fitting appropriate enough so that he could crawl on all fours and have a little space to spare. Next, he found the assembled bricks he mounted that covered his previous ministrations, taking them off with glee to face the light of that old-bulb from the other section of the Sewage Canals.

Today he would take no nap though, already he was worried Jason would have an idea where he was, after all, the plan had included the taller man and an extra day if Damian came back with nothing— it's just that Dick already knew the teen would come empty-handed, and it was better his way; Jason had wanted to use _another _approach, but the chances that it would take them _longer _made the decision for him. The tunnels were a labyrinth alright; Dick wasn't about to risk finding Donna too late just because Jason wanted to tag along.

Now, he remembered his path being straight ahead for another fifty meters or so before turning right, yet he still mumbled the number of steps he took before. Dick grinned, nodding to himself at the reassurance. Then, he took aim with his grapple-hook far beyond what he could actually see; in the distance he heard the hook impaling itself into the other brick wall, enough encouragement to jump into the line, the angle given with such a decrease that permitted him to swing his way there. No guards were on sight, Dick double-checked taking another breath to jump from the line, spinning in the air to take away the hook and adjust it to his right to continue his travel after his flip ended.

He was getting closer to the machinery rooms, where personnel were located; a prickle on the back of his neck reminded him to be careful.

Plan in succession he was ready to take care of them once he saw the first head, then Dick jumped, flipping with less elegance than normal and knocking the guy to the floor with his sudden weight; a smoke pellet already exploding around them.

The guard had yelped comically, landing on the floor unconscious and alerting the one accompanying him. Dick rolled over, not letting go of the momentum to latch himself into the other guy's chest and hitting both sides of his neck to quiet him. The man fell like a limp noodle, dropping his things, and Dick cared not about the cameras with the heavy smoke dancing around him. First he disposed of the guns, disarming them with hesitance when a wave overpowered him.

"_No." _Dick shook his head to clear his memories until he found the right one—and then he finished disarming the guns like nothing happened, throwing them to the filthy waters behind him just for the sake of it. The smoke hadn't cleared, even still he sprinted towards the room, using yet another pellet to cover his tracks from the curious eyes above to then latch himself into the air-ducts, his pace frenzied to get to the other segment with the creepy guards—word would get out soon, and he'd rather handle them before gossip, of all things, undid him.

Apparently that wasn't anything to worry about, Dick considered when he pushed against the vent above them, landing it on the head of his first meat who grunted in pain and coughed when the pellet encompassed the room—this one was special; it only helped every single one of them to plummet to the floor and cough their lungs out.

Landing in the middle of the room his lungs constricted the same way they've done; this time, Dick used the endorphins wisely instead of fretting like a silly child.

His first move was a kick on the jaw of this one meat that trembled on all fours, his raw anger dangerous enough to let him take gruesome pleasure from hearing the crack that followed his hit. Filled with pain over a dislocated jaw, the man scrambled to a fetal position, choking on his own breath while nursing the mangled face.

The others weren't actually keen to attack, what with being helpless bulges trying to catch their breath. Dick wouldn't be placated though, he went against every single meat with a flurry of movements that could only be achieved by his previous self, and finished the last one with the same combo he'd started with. It hadn't taken much to leave them unresponsive to the world, save for a twitch here and there. Tired of the façade, he took the stolen card (from searching their pockets and ridding them of their weapons) and opened the door.

Dick remembered the location of the cameras, quickly disposing of them with well-aimed Batarangs. He already knew they would know Batman was here once Donna was out— why bother? He would have at least a minute before their systems found the disposed cameras, it was enough time.

And frankly, he was tired of keeping hidden, petulance from a child: from him.

It didn't mattered when his eyes found Donna in that same flask, in a matter of seconds, he'd already pulled a metallic table beside her, then flipped his way to the machinery connected to her tubes, repeating himself he had one minute. Searching the underside of his sock that folded itself neatly on his ankle, he found the Chip, dissembling the machine's superficial framework with the tip of the Batarang, and inserting the little device in between the main processors. A series of sounds of hacking into the mainframe were now accompanying the steady beats of Donna's heartbeat, and Dick went towards the archaic keyboard to accelerate the hacking process.

The software was joke, it took him no less than thirty seconds to break the commands and signal new ones (maybe he was being unfair, given he'd hacked Batman's personal files before), also tampering the message that had been on its way to the main contact should the facility be jeopardized. That alone gave him a full load of spare time; the device would take care of the rest.

Then he went to another machine, having already seen the commands to get the gist of how this thing worked, pressing several buttons, followed by two levers, and spinning a wheel. A drilling-like noise started, shadowed by the sound of water going down a drain, and then faster than Bruce reacting to the Bat-signal he was above the metal table, watching intensely how the vile liquid disappeared below the glass that had his friend trapped.

Dick had never been more patient before in his whole life—his fingers twitched with agitation, wanting to just break open the glass and take Donna. He refrained, because he needed to disconnect and remove the tubes along her nose and mouth, and break the metal rings that held her dead weight now that the water wasn't helping her float. On the back of his mind, he retraced his steps, picturing their escape with his modified path to keep himself distracted.

After much stretch, he heard the hiss of the flask sliding open and hiding beneath the floor, then went to it. He was actually very surprised his hands weren't trembling like crazy as he took the tubes away first, leaving Donna coughing and wheezing-up desperately at the loss and burn of the accessories.

The aerialist held her, placing reassuring circles against her back and ridding her of the muck that went out from her mouth, completely uncaring of the secretion, until she was clean.

"_Donna,_" Dick could swear he watched a sliver of blue gazing at him, but her eyes seemed closed despite her violent cough, so he continued, now with the intravenous on her arm, and the rest of the equipment that monitored her brain waves and heart rate. His hand remained steady on her face once done, stroking her left cheek with utmost devotion, almost lost in his joy.

Resisting a sigh, Dick reached behind her back, holding her carefully around her waist with his right arm to better support her dead weight while his other hand was using the laser to cut through the steel rings trapping her wrists.

He made haste, feeling the drop of her body against his small chest when the first wrist fell limp to her side, adjusting her again to rest completely against him while working on the other one. She was very sticky, and the odor permeated even through his mask, his clothes already soaking on it—but he didn't care, instead Dick invaded more into her personal space to the point where there _wasn't _any space left; her hair matting itself to his cheek and the uncovered portion of his neck.

The clang of the steel shackle against the floor was relief to his ears, and the warmth of her presence made his eye blurry when he heaved and carried her against the table, noticing she was shivering in that dirty dress that might've been a better fit once upon a time.

"_Donna,_" Dick whispered, aware their time was running out, but feeling disturbingly calm oddly enough. He crouched on one knee, using the table to aid him, and shaking her shoulder with the same care to wake her—it wouldn't be easy if she wasn't awake, Dick wasn't positive he'd be able to carry her through after passing the room, however noble his intentions.

"_Donna._" He tried shaking her again, this time with more force behind his maneuver. They really needed to get a move on. "Donna, wake up." He tried again, his voice firm and a glint on his eye when she twitched her own, trying to force them to open. Dick was helping her right away, rubbing small circles against her eyelids to remove any rheum from years that hadn't been dissolved in the liquid.

A weak hand swatted half-heartily his own, and his heart almost gave out on him.

"Come on, sleepy-head," he choked a small laugh, finishing with cleaning the rest of her face, then, there it was again— that sliver of blue lost in a haze. He'd measured encountering a blind Donna ever since finding her— he was half-way there anyway, what's to say she wasn't?— but up until now he'd hoped that wasn't the case; it had to be different with her, it just had to. (He'd also considered encountering a crazy Donna— someone who wouldn't recognize him and who would have a nervous breakdown if she did. It was completely valid given the circumstances, and the only thing to counter that possibility was a sedative strong enough to put an elephant down).

When those half-opened blues cleared and narrowed in recognition, all his worries flew out the window, and he felt silly for every doubting she would be broken like him.

"…" she opened her mouth, wheezing in her attempt to speak to him.

"Hey—hey, it's okay, no need for that," After making sure she was more in-tune with herself, he slowly reached the small flask he'd left on his side, fully prepared that she would need water when he set the table to reach her, "here, drink this; it's not much, but it's something—slow down, easy,"

She coughed again, her hand with more stability to help her clean her lips from the water that she hadn't been able to hold past her throat.

"Sorry to rush you Wonder girl, but we really need to get moving; can you stand?"

Donna made show to nod slowly, paying special care on her head. Dick knew the sensation, and gave her space to adjust to the throb.

"Yeah, the headaches suck." She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture ten-fold.

"_Dddd-..d-c_—" Donna tried again, coughing but sitting on her own, perks of having Amazon powers flooding her veins. She was already better than he'd estimated.

"Here," he held-out his red hoodie for her, turning his head slightly to confirm their "friends" hadn't woken-up from their enforced nap thus far, "'s been a while seen you've used red on you, and that's a shame."

She nodded, her movements far more steady, and by the time she was done, he'd finished ransacking his backpack, handing her a pair of sneakers and a mask, signaling his own to procure an unnecessary example.

"Dick," her voice cracked, and she took another swing from his flask to clear her throat better. Dick hadn't cared about that, her voice alone sending his nerves warfare and the tingling on his spine a pleasant ache. Amazon prowess's indeed, "thank you…"

He wanted to cry from joy having her recognizing him; he was far from what she remembered, yet she he knew she knew it was him. Instead, Dick shook his head, invading her personal space again for a brief hug.

"Are you kidding me? I'm always here for you, Donna," he let her go quickly, realizing she was returning the gesture but they really needed to leave, "c'mon, we need to get out, we've overstayed our welcome."

The girl chuckled, raising an amused brow before shoving the sneakers on her small feet.

"Right, which way, oh fearless leader?" The girl asked, hands on her undeveloped hips and floating towards him on the floor like they weren't in the midst of a gore movie gone wrong.

Dick couldn't help it. The sour notes finally singing together and clearing his mind the same way they cleared hers.

He just smiled.

* * *

><p><em>-~16:08hrs.<em> _Somewhere north._

He'd never seen more red before in his whole life, if it was out of frustration, anger or fear, Clark was uncaring. Too long he'd forgiven Bruce, too long he'd waited.

No more. He'd already instructed Canary to take the measure she'd suggested—to move the remaining to one secure location, somewhere Bruce wouldn't be able to just _break _through out of some corrupted sense of misguided pride. Now, now Clark would make him understand.

Flying through another dark city once forgotten, he reached its evil twin: the dark sky and high-towers still as menacing as he'd remembered.

_Gotham City._

No more games. This ended, today.

With that in mind, Superman charged.

Gotham would fall.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>So happy~_


	25. Watchdogs

_**Author's Notes: **__Seems it'll be over soon, but it might not. By the way, excited about the video game 'Watch Dogs.' _

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Violence, Foul language, and Angst._

_Tuesday April 1__st__, 2014 Words: 6,697._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXV.- Watchdogs._

_-~15:34hrs. Somewhere North._

Donna was not happy. Not. One. Bit.

That, of course had nothing— and incidentally everything—to do with Dick.

"Sure you don't need a break or something?" He asked below her, and she spared him a glance, arching one of her eyebrows at his insistence. Even from their position Donna was sure he saw her. "Nobody's questioning your strength here, Donna," he backtracked.

"Just my stamina, huh?" She asked with mischief. It was hard staying angry when he was nearby. "I told you, Wonder boy, I'm fine. If your skinny-behind gets to be too heavy for me, trust me, you'll be the first to know."

"Hey, it's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"Uh-huh, why am I doing the carrying again?"

"'Cause you're the strongest and I'm not insecure about admitting it." He told her with a big smile.

Donna grinned back.

"And don't you forget it." She chirped proudly, and rejoiced on the grin of the tired acrobat. They've been flying for the better part of two hours, and even if she wasn't getting tired yet, the darkening of the sky left her wary in this new world. The land that she glanced from the above was not the same; cities ruined by the wicked. Donna felt very insecure of where she stood.

"Donna, can you lower us on that big market?"

She squinted her eyes, inspecting the aforementioned place.

"Yeah, hang on."

They descended lazily, landing on the back entrance. Dick was watching everything around them, no doubt ready to take on anything, and Donna felt for him.

She was angry at him—she was angry at herself; at what they were.

"C'mon, there might be some clothes worth our while."

The amazon followed his lead through the broken window –she guessed it'd be because of the door creaking open–getting inside the dusty place.

Both children surveyed the market, making sure to stay within an arms touch, while searching for something to wear. They were far enough from the facility that had her, and now they really couldn't keep ignoring that she needed to change into something decent and clean and _not smelly._

"Donna," a hand over her shoulder startled her, making her look back into a lighter shade of blue.

"I'm okay, really." Waking up had really disconcerted her, she wasn't about to deny it, and her muscles had felt stiff and sore –atrophied— but she was an amazon, so it didn't took much from her to be top notch; however, Dick was reluctant about it, and had also been hesitant to cross the room that had guarded her body but then, when they easily crossed the place he'd seemed… lost. Like something had happened that he hadn't taken into consideration, and for someone who grew up to be like Batman much more than he liked to admit it, it was scary. She was worried; was something supposed to happen? Then the Leader of the Titans quickly took over, and Dick lead her through a path he'd prepared so she followed; amazed with his meticulousness and resolve of getting her out. She even flew him over the next point, insisting it would be faster than his grapple, and after convincing him she wasn't in pain, he agreed, and then they kept until they were out.

If they weren't escaping, she would've gladly press the matter of his break in character (Dick knew Donna never minded in lending an ear to him, and wasn't that ironic?).

"… right, well, let's go,"

"On your feet." They walked and kept walking; nobody was there to avoid, yet they kept to themselves in a synch that had never been forgotten. The whole place was giving her the creeps, there was hardly much left.

Unconsciously, her left hand grabbed hold of the long sticky-lock that hung on the left side of her face, intending of pushing it away behind her ear —

Oh. Right.

She ignored the lump on her throat, trying to untangle some knots to pass-off the action, suddenly self-conscious.

"Here," her eyes went to her right, where Dick was holding some type of shirt way too big for her, "there's some vodka too, it'll do to clean you up. All that's left is some nice clothes for you to change," he said, placing the objects on her hands to go back to the mountain of random items over the floors.

Donna smiled, thanking him and placing the things on the backpack they found some aisles back.

"I think this will do nicely," The amazon princess said jovially, holding a pair of pants, "don't think I'm the only one needing some beauty time, Boy Wonder."

At the end they found more than her friend thought they would, and went out in a hurry (Donna thought Dick could sense her uneasiness –World's Greatest Detective in her book), flying for another half an hour or so before they took shelter on some deserted cave.

He helped her with her wounds –small as they were— and she returned the favor. The smell clinging to her skin wasn't that much better, what with the alcohol mixed with Hera knew what—but it was definitely an improvement, and Dick managed to cut her long hair to her regular length, and rid of most of her knots. Clean (or as clean as they would get anyhow), they ate some cans her friend had on his bag (which tasted heavenly on her opinion) not losing more time to be back on the road.

"Don't you think burning them was a little over the top?" She really thought it hadn't been necessary to incinerate their clothes and stuff they left behind.

"Think of it as a favor to what's left of humanity. Good start as any to a better place."

She frowned, deciding it was best to not push her luck. Still… "Dick, are you sure this is the right way?" Donna was no stranger to Gotham, but since she woke up, some memories were fuzzy, and made her feel strange, she wanted to ask Dick about it too; it couldn't be _just _her.

"Yeah, I think so." He told her with some hesitation and they shared a look that answered her unvoiced question: he was having fuzzy memories too.

'_That can't be good.'_

"Okay, by the way, what's the plan when we get there?" Memories or not, she kinda understood their situation from their previous talk, and if they were going to Batman's city they needed a plan— were they even going to go to the Batman himself?

"It'll depend."

"On what?"

Dick levelled her another stern gaze that fitted his grown face better.

"On what we find there."

* * *

><p><em>-~16:10hrs. Primary Base underneath Gotham's Arkham Asylum.<em>

"We have an upcoming breach coming from East Point."

"Who's dumb enough to do that?" Steph asked approaching him with a cautious step, leaving the rest of Damian's team back. The girls had definitely taken a liking to her (and an unsurprising awe at Cass), Tim noted.

His jaw clenched; Bruce was still talking with Damian about some mission that held a small possibility of news about the girl's Lantern. The task, while smooth, had been unsuccessful, that much he knew, and the Batman had just come back himself today too, giving him specific instructions to _not _interrupt them.

"Oh-uh..." Steph muttered behind him, her naked eyes fixed on the object fast approaching the radar:

Superman.

"What? Who's coming?" Milagro probed, her curiosity betraying her tone but not enough to make them move closer to them.

"Um, Cass?" Stephanie replied instead, sending the girls a placating nod to keep them from adding anything to the conversation, something he greatly appreciated. "She in her room?"

"Just got back some hours ago, should be sleeping." It had been roughly more than five hours since his sister arrived from her undisclosed location, no doubt she was exhausted. _'Of all the times.' _

"Right, I'll go call her, you might want to take this to the Boss though."

A glare "Obviously."

"ETA?"

"Less than two minutes, he'll reach Blüdhaven in a little more than one." Then he turned back to the young girls still standing now finished with typing the last commands, Steph long gone. They had less than two minutes –at the most—until the Man of Steel arrived. They needed to get ready. "Stay here, and don't move anything, I'll be right back."

"Is there something we can—?"

"No. I'll be right back!" Tim interrupted Lian, feeling bad about it and running towards the Meeting Room (it was good they placed it within walking distance from their Main Computer). He bypassed knocking, valuing time over the matter, and faced the pair of scowling men with a stoic expression of his own. "Code K.L." Tim said before Damian could butt in, effectively shutting him right away. "ETA in a minute and a half and counting."

"Start Protocol Watchdogs." Batman commanded loud enough for everyone on his way out, heading towards the Main exit with them in tow.

"He'll reach Blüdhaven first." Damian said, and he nodded, already on the steps and putting-on his cowl. Stephanie and Cassandra were there; geared-up and waiting for the following orders from their General.

"Take every measurement to protect the Asylum and _do not_ initiate personal contact." Batman finished, making his way through the three girls that didn't know anything about what was going on, but parted away from him like the Red Sea.

"I'll assist with recognizance on Protocol Watchdogs then, Master Bruce. Do be careful." Alfred appeared behind Black Bat and Batgirl, taking his seat on the Computer. Red Robin nodded, going to the exit himself but pausing just a second after Black Bat disappeared too; Batman had by now gone to the City.

"Night-Robin," Because this wasn't any criminal, it was Clark, and the girls weren't ready yet.

"West will support Pennyworth and be of secondary assistance, Red Robin."

"What?" Iris asked behind them, and his brother silenced her with a glare that she sheepishly acknowledged. " . Ya know it'dbeeasierifyoujustusedour_names_."

"Just passed Blüdhaven, young Masters," Alfred relayed with a grim expression, "He's here."

* * *

><p><em>-~16:12hrs. Upper East District, Gotham City.<em>

"_BRUCE!"_ Superman hollered through the skies almost at the center of the city making her cover her ears in discomfort.

Milagro hadn't seen the man in so many years that she almost forgot how he looked like, even in that strange gear, but upon her helmet's visor (Batman's toys _were _the best) was able to catch the anger in his face up above, and the madness in his breathing patterns. It was their first time out in the city, and they were confused at the strange orders from Batman concerning the Asylum, but who were they to put their two cents?

A hand from behind her pulled her back to her hiding spot beneath the Asylum's many tombs. All this time they've been underneath without knowing any better.

'_Don't.' _Night-Robin signaled before securing a batarang in his belt (Milagro frowned; she thought he only had Wing-Dings).

'_What are we doing?' _She asked after sharing a look with their other two squad mates behind her. This was not an exercise; this was a real enemy on their turf that could really kill them.

'_We wait.' _He answered, while she tried to recall 'Protocol Watchdogs' with all her might (she was sure he went through it with them, but there were _so_ many it was hard to tell). _'Come.' _And he made them follow his lead through the Island's Cemetery with painfully slow steps.

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE! COME OUT AND WE'LL SETTLE THIS!"

He was beyond mad; a point in the sky that screamed everywhere. Among their teaching she remembered he had excellent eyes (infrared), and amazing ears (no doubt their careful step), so it was odd how he couldn't hear or see them moving (maybe Protocol Watchdogs answered that for her, it was just at the tip of her tongue!)

Out of nowhere the man batted something away in the sky.

"There you are!"

This time, she heard the sharp sound of metal cutting through air before she watched the Man of Steel destroying a second Batarang and flying towards the direction of a skyscraper in an unbelievable speed.

The upper part of the building was left with a large hole after he flew through it, and his rampant yelling continued with promises of death against the Batman while calling him a coward.

Night-Robin led them through a secluded tunnel, apparently taking advantage of the debris falling from the building to mask their hurried steps, and once again they were trailing after him over the sewers.

'_What was that?' _She asked when they reached some ladders; they could hear a semblance of destruction behind.

'_Protocol Watchdogs_.' He signaled with an irritated motion of his hands.

'_I think it's safe to say we don't remember that one.' _Speedy interjected with a repentant gaze. Iris nodded her head somberly which only got them a meaner glare from their Leader.

'_First we lure him without giving our position. Now follow.' _They climbed the stairs carefully, and ended up beneath the bridge that connected the Asylum to the City. Superman was nearby, but not by much (it was of little consequence since he could fly really fast everywhere). She watched Night-Robin glimpsing at the enemy, taking his grappling hook and imbedding it underneath the bridge with uncanny precision. With the line secure he turner at them extending his hand when they saw Superman fly elsewhere with those violent yells.

They recognized his order, and Speedy was the first to grab the hand, and up they were. Milagro took care of keeping watch while Night-Robin left Speedy underneath the bridge; Iris controlling her feet in an impressive show of patience.

He returned to them without a moment to lose, and Iris was the next to hold to him, leaving the Hispanic alone. On her turn, he gestured at his belt, enough indication for her to hold his waist, securing herself on her own so he could drop a Batarang half-way to their destination on the water below them.

Remembering or not, she would follow if it meant a chance at defeating Superman.

* * *

><p>Black Bat tumbled her way into another building keeping her momentum, aware the alien was hot on her heels. She wasn't afraid; she'd defeated a stronger kryptonian when she was nothing but a girl. Orders were orders, and there was no personal contact until Night-Robin did his part of the deal. Her communicator emitted a specific vibration from Agent A., and that was her cue. Quickly, she made her way taking care of staying in the shadows of the buildings that were mostly covered in lead, then she sent another batarang that twisted in the air to distract the man. She got her window when another device coming from her left followed her own (Red Robin's), and she leaped towards her next destination point, already on the ends of the Coventry District (1) keeping up as fast as she could with the man. There was no sign of The Riddler's goons to deter or give her away.<p>

Batgirl's signal vibrated her own rhythm on her glove, and she reached Robinson Park (2) in a new personal record, heading towards the Reservoir just in time to avoid making Red Robin a target—the kryptonian had lost some of his speed, she noted, but not enough to risk her brother for much. With a precise flick of her wrist, she sent another one that exploded nearby the man, almost hitting him and making sure he saw part of her cape hiding in between the thick branches around the lake.

He flew there and the Batman's daughter was reassured he caught the black material when he crashed against the tree she'd hid not ten seconds ago, taking almost a dozen or so on his attack with him. She pressed against the cold walls of the greenhouse, perfectly aware of the man who was doing a lot of damage (only meters from her) to the area to find a body.

"BRU—_ackk_!"

A strong vine had caught the man mid-rant, squeezing the air out of his lungs with deadly force, giving the kryptonian pause for his troubles when he tried to break the thick plant to have another four ensuring capture.

It had begun.

She sent her signal, sure Agent A. would take care of it, and ran back into the Coventry, towards The Bowery for the next one: Johnathan Crane.

Superman snarled, forcing his muscles to break the plant's vicious hold. He'd never felt comfortable with the protective suit—gloves weren't easy; too slippery and easy to break.

Just like the ensemble.

The constraint of the lianas was doing enough damage as it was.

This couldn't be Bruce—it was, what's her name, Ivy? Why was she of all people doing this to him? More importantly, why was the woman loose when Batman still had Gotham to protect?

Yelling with might, Clark was able to free both arms just enough to rip the tendrils against his chest. He'd automatically wanted to use his laser beams, but stopped himself right on time. He had to get by, so he flew around the new sprouts of green that came from the ground, intent of flying away to find Bruce. Ivy was not his problem.

Another persistent vine (this one with spikes) got hold of his ankle, tugging him downwards with surprising strength that made him crash against a pond; the slam against the water knocking his senses momentarily until he freed himself from the grasp of the pesky green. He was barely getting out of the water when something else grabbed him on the same foot, pulling him deeper into the water.

He kicked again, just about restraining himself to use his eyes to get the offender off. Clark had a very good set of lungs, but he couldn't hold on forever.

Water entering through his suit alerted him of the vicious set of teeth ripping at the cloth that covered his leg. Now able to recognize Croc trying to rip at his skin, Clark grabbed the monster's shoulder blade, tearing him away from himself to finally swim back to the surface, coughing some water that managed to get to his helmet on all fours.

Apparently the Meta wasn't done with him yet, 'cause he felt the scaly grip on his arm trying to sprain his muscles apart with a grow nearby him ear.

"Finally got enough of hiding away!"

"Get off!" Clark yelled at the insult, the feel of more vines squeezing him.

"Hehehe! You can't run anymore Man of Steel!" Croc announced with too many teeth, ripping at his back with his sharp nails seconds before he was receiving a punch in the face for the treatment. Glowering at the lizard Clark stepped into the plants, furious at the attack.

"I'll deal with you later, now tell me where is Bruce?!" Was the city they've been so wary off really out of control from Batman? It was hard to believe, but so was the deformed creature grinning madly at him, surrounded by vines that seemed to dance like companions instead of enemies.

"The Bat is no concern of yours,~" A bell rang out then and there, the old composition bouncing wall against wall, then another rang in tune with it, and another, and another, and suddenly, there was a cacophony of the damn clocks timing again and again. If he'd been on his senses, then he would've paid special attention on the time.

"I don't need you to tell me, I'll find him myself!" He growled out, intent of flying away when the sound of wheels caught his attention. It was south…

'_The Batmobile!' _ Superman flew right past Croc and Ivy, rounding some buildings and stopping short when bullets were fired his way. Blocking the attacks, he glimpsed around, finding more than twenty men and women alike firing their guns away at him on top of military tanks.

"The Penguin says 'Hello', Superman!" Some of them hollowed, catcalling away. Furious, Superman punched one of the tanks breaking the engine off, but no sooner than that collapsed against the side of a flower-store on the opposite direction, feeling the stab of the missile that had him in-between the burning building for an answer. Gathering himself from the crumbling store, he went against his attackers, screaming in rage and killing them off one by one.

The criminals were relentless, shooting away their rifles and firing their tanks at him; what was going on? He was on the end of his rope—his patience almost gone in the carnage when he spotted him half a block away: Batman.

Roaring and consumed in adrenaline, he charged against the Gothamite, slamming him into concrete floor and hearing the cracking of ribs in satisfaction. The criminals were still hot on him—_them_—and, Bruce grunted, looking down at him from the grip he had on his neck.

"This has been a long time coming you _bastard_," Clark snarled, squeezing his neck some more and shielding the body of the Dark Knight with his larger one from the attacks behind them, "you're going to answer to everything you've done."

"And you're more stupid than we thought." Batman grinned at him, stopping the struggle against his grip, like he wasn't being choked to death. Clark had less than a minute to process the comment when the earth opened in two, and an enormous plant swallowed him whole, freeing the Bat. He struggled to keep himself from going further than the jaws trying to chew him, very aware of the acid burning at the material on the soles of his feet and strips on his back. He ripped apart the plant, enjoying the guttural sound of its death, yet felt the air punched out of his lungs the moment he was free.

A fist against his jaw followed the one in his gut, and he fell to his side. Vision blurry, he made out the form of Bane denting the floor with his leg when he rolled away to evade the kick.

"So the Man of Steel isn't that worthless!" Bane taunted him with his filthy accent, going for him again. Superman met him hand-in-hand intent to break the Criminal's in half. Bane, even filled with his venom shouldn't be this strong. Both men stood their ground, Superman asserting his dominance little by little, only to gasp in pain when another pair of arms secured his own from behind, stretching his limbs painfully and breaking the material of his helmet with sharp claws.

"I told you, you couldn't run anymore," Croc said behind him, applying more pressure to his hold.

He doubled over as much as the scaly arms allowed him when Bane punched his side viciously, earning a gasp for their troubles, and a chuckle from the Luchador.

"Almost too easy, ¿eh?"

"Yess—ack!" Clark head-butted the animal behind him then used his laser beams against the one in front of him. Aware of the damage done to his headgear, he tossed it away, gathering some air and blowing it towards both Metas in justified rage. They started to freeze, but then he so did he. Flabbergasted at the ice keeping him in place, he turned his head seeing a tranquil Freeze aiming at him.

"_What—?_"

"Superman; can't say we're surprised to see you." The man casually conversed with him.

"He does look surprised though," Batman strolled at Freeze's side, nonchalantly leaning against the older man. The scene was too weird for him to process, only the frown on the Ice man's blue face speaking of the disgust at the action.

"Do mind keeping your filthy limbs to yourself."

"Hehehe, chilly seeing the Batman like this." Batman grinned back slowly reverting himself to another figure, realization dawning his at the strange behavior from the man. "My acting skills are top notch, look at his face."

"Fool." Freeze answered, resuming on his task to ice the rest of him. Clenching his teeth, Clark retaliated with a beam from his eyes, removing the offenders and using his vision to melt the ice from one of his legs. More vines tried to reach behind him, so he punched through the solid ice, ripping more of his uniform to evade another hold. The sky proved to be of no escape for him, because he felt flames envelop him, the figure of Firefly laughing behind. Blind against the attack, he faltered on his place in the air, enough to keep the ongoing assault until something exploded and sent him pummeling against the floor.

Croc was on him again, finishing with what was left of his uniform. He attached himself to his back, refusing to let him go, and sinking his teeth on his back. Clark hit his back against the earth, getting rid of the vermin long enough to fall on his side when a sucker punch nailed him to the ground. Tumbling to his feet he'd yet to get a hold of the situation when another array of bullets went right through him.

"Howdy, Supey!" Harley greeted him with that annoying high-voice, holding the end of a joke-pistol (probably the one who sucker punched him) and some criminals with face-paint marking both sides differently that held the rifles.

"Harley, don't lower yourself talking to filths like him." Ivy finally made her appearance, the woman as beautiful as ever. "We're on a schedule, and I've yet to thank him for my babies."

"Ohhhh, you naughty man!"

He charged at the women, tired of this madness, but the harlequin had let out a laugh accompanied with the sound of marbles that exploded around him. An atrocious mane of green elevated itself from the ground, both Criminals on the top, and now with its Mistress present, the plants confronting him were vicious on their attacks. Two-Faces' help firing away from the ground.

Superman tried to fend them off, cutting green after green with his eyes, and breaking them apart with his bare hands; this was inexplicable, and then Bane had him on his knees on another chokehold, slamming him like he was nothing against the concrete, and Croc was with him, sinking his claws on the big S of his chest, all the way to his skin. Only a scratch but then Freeze shot him again, the hold the animal had on him gone, and yet he felt dizziness overwhelming his senses and cold spreading from his legs.

"Be good for something and still once and for all." Freeze told him condescending from a distance.

His head aching, he forced himself away from the ice, backpedalling when the sound of Bats screeching appeared out of nowhere and the awful creatures swarmed in frenzy around him, biting and scratching at his skin, followed by the Dark Knight himself.

"_Bruce-!_" He growled, making sure to slam against him this time; sick of the trickery. Batman head-butted him, jabbing at his chin and then at his sternum with an impressive force. Both men fell to the ground, the sky darker with thunders aiming their way and a heavy rain falling on them. Superman didn't care, even if his bones felt chilling and his limbs weak; head throbbing he rubbed his eyes when he digressed there was no further sign of Batman—no sight of anything. Like a fool, he tumbled his way in the blackness, breathing hectic and all too nauseous to keep himself from throwing-up pathetically on all fours.

"_Bruuuuce—!_" Clark wheezed, sweating—no, it was the rain—and cleaning his mouth from the filthy taste. From a distance he thought he saw two glaring whites, so he headed towards them, ignoring his ailments to get to the Bat who hid himself further. "Bruu—" coughing his insides out, he doubled again; his face was on fire, and he'd barely had enough force to keep himself awake, but why? What was…?

No. He couldn't fall—he'd informed Canary that he wanted a meeting with the Leviathan Lords tonight, once she got the other three in oneplace, and he captured the Bat to ensure he wouldn't intervene again.

On the background he heard something, but he'd closed his eyes against the torment of the dark without noticing, just so conscious. There was the constant gravelly voices of Leviathan against his ears, reminding him of his failures and projecting his future on his eyes that kept him from gathering his courage. Thunders clashed closer, and then Batman was looming above him, taller than ever and young like just the last time they've met.

"You killed my son," Bruce broke the heavy tempest with darkness in his voice, making him shudder, "it's only fit I kill you."

Clarks eyes widened in panic. Crazy he looked around him, where all of Batman's allies held him against the mud; the youngest one (a mere _child_) playing with a green knife made out of stone and sitting on top of his waist.

"Tt. Pathetic. Allow me, Father."

"No! You—you don't _kill!_"

"Supes' got a point—that just means I'll do the honors," the oldest—Jason—said, twirling his gun that glowed a speck of green at the arm he had trapped with his boot, "doesn't mean I won't take my time."

"No fair! I'm allowed to show him my gratitude for keeping me a guest!" The blonde girl exclaimed behind him (face bruised and tender without her cowl on), twisting her feet against his ankle and earning a grunt of pain from him. Then she took out a batarang that shared the same green and he panicked in realization:

Kryptonite.

"Connor would want me to return the favor." Tim answered back; his boo-staff a painful reminder against his other ankle, and making that point particularly sensitive—kryptonite too, no doubt.

"Me too." Muttered the creepy daughter of the Bat, her glowing-green claws skinning his wrist.

Unable to take it anymore, Clark trashed against his prosecutors, yelling at the laughing and reproachful voices that mixed as one: Canary, Ollie, Diana, Leviathans... This was not supposed to be this way—

"We'll do it." The voices in the background quelled, making way towards him with sure steps the dead weren't supposed to take.

"_You_—you can't!"

"Like Bats said, it's only fitting." Flash crooned, resting his arm against Red Arrow, who trembled on his spot sending him a murdering glare and raising his bow and flashing arrow.

"It is." The arrow was released, imbedding itself on his shoulder-blade; his limb useless against Jason's grip.

Clark yelled.

* * *

><p><em>-~19:20hrs. Hidden facility inside the D'Angelo Sewage Treatment Plant. <em>

"How long you think he'll stay like that?" Milagro whispered on her right.

"I'm not sure." Lian whispered back to her, glaring at the man who trashed wildly in his weakened unconscious state. "But it won't be enough. He deserves to suffer more."

"I never thought it'd be like this." Iris added on her other side; her own glare fixed on the strange restraints that supported Superman. She hummer her agreement, in all her years Lian hadn't ever thought defeating her father's killer like this. "Itwould'vebeenbetterifhe'dtoldus."

"You were supposed to figure it out, yourselves." The strained voice of Night-Robin made them yelp in fright.

"How?" She asked, being the one that broke from the scare first. The past hours had really taken a toll on all of them; Batman and his crew would never seize to amaze her. All of them had been incredible, and the villains… who would've thought they were free to roam over their City? Never in a million years—

"I've left my gauntlet unattended one too many times."

Lian's mouth gaped openly at the implication. He had wanted them to _hack _his terminal?

"You gotta be kidding." Milagro answered, only to receive a severe glare from Night-Robin.

"Even far from our location West attempted to break through the security of my computer; he would've probably been far more successful if one of you had aided him with the gauntlet in hand." That was true—Jai had contacted them more than once with that idea, but the three had dismissed him, not wanting to anger their leader (though Irey had been reluctant to disagree with her brother). Then she watched him cross his arms, returning his masked gaze to their prisoner. "No matter now, the operation was effective, despite your shortcomings."

"There were villains from Arkham on the loose! Of course we were surprised—again, a heads-up on the whole Asylum situation would've been great!" Milagro returned indignantly in a strange loss of patience against their leader. She was far more composed, and she'd been the only one who hadn't gaped uselessly during most of the spectacle.

"Why did they help anyway?" Iris interrupted the upcoming fight with creased eyebrows. "I thought they wanted all of you dead." Lian had also been wondering the same thing, and apparently so did Milagro, who now waited patiently for the answer. He regarded them with a guarded expression, probably debating on letting them know or not.

"That will be enough, you can return to the Conference Room now." Batman materialized behind Night-Robin, yet he was the only who didn't squealed embarrassingly at the sudden appearance.

"…yes, Father." He paused on his step, like deliberating whether or not to question the Batman, and then nodded towards them. "Come."

Blinking at the retreating form, Lian chanced a glance at Batman to find him watching them instead of his son. She gulped at the intensity of the glare, and impeccable suit; his intimidating steps that broke the villains aggressions on the beaten Superman like a movie on her mind's eye. How, with one word (more like command) on his arrival, he'd removed Ivy's hold on the quivering mess that was the strongest man alive, and the others appeared behind him, making the Criminals back off with no questions in-between, and letting the Gothamite Vigilantes take the defeated enemy for themselves.

They were obviously in commute—why else would the crazies among crazies attack on their orders. Lian had watched Night-Robin dropped a beeping Batarang on the water nearby the Sewage Plant when they were by the river; she'd also watched him lure out Clayface right after they landed back on the City (and almost giving her a Heart attack in the process), and he'd conveniently disappeared moments before tanks filled with goons with the mark of the Penguin made their way towards the chaos coming from North. Then, he'd made them travel towards the commotion, and just stood-by on their vigilant post, allowing them to witness the fight from ground point.

She'd no doubt the others lured the rest of the company (for one Batgirl had appeared at the building opposite from them seconds before Mr. Freeze made his debut), and only after Superman had his gear completely ripped-off, right when Croc had marked his prey with his claws, had a lazy vine carrying the Master of fear made its entrance, dosing the man with his strange gas and laughing at him.

It was at that moment that everything clicked for Lian and the others; when the forms of Batman and Black Bat descended from that same vine (grapples) and landed on the ground, right next to a Red Robin (who arrived after the first two), completely unpreoccupied by the dangerous villains that reduced the World's greatest menace to a crumbled, crazed mess who couldn't form coherent sentences.

She shook herself from the trance, following after Iris, and feeling Milagro's steps after her.

It'd been a long time since she felt fear towards Batman, but the image of him securing the vulnerable Superman with his line to the back of the Batmobile and leaving the place without so much as a glance back at the glowering Master Criminals was enough to make her tremble.

Night-Robin had waited for them to watch Batgirl and Red Robin take their leaves with their grapples in the same direction the Batmobile had taken (the grunts from Superman against the concrete at the speed strong in her mind), leaving Black Bat alone with the criminals. And yet, given they cruised the streets that were heavy with goons everywhere, all in various stages of celebration—streets that had been silent with desolation preceding the combined attacks—they were the last ones to arrive to this secret hideout in the mouth of the Asylum—where all the innocent civilians of Gotham City apparently lived.

What a day.

"Now what?" She heard Milagro ask the young man. At one point during their watch on the traitor Lian could swore she heard her dad's name. It was very disconcerting.

"We prepare for the next battle."

That piqued her interest and growing confusion.

"What do you mean?" She asked, entering the Conference Room for the first time, unable to keep from staring at Batgirl and Black Bat who were whispering to one another while exchanging information on their holo-computers.

"YoumeanWonderWoman?" He nodded at Iris, his posed frame proud of the Meta.

"At this point you're not even trying," the sudden voice of Red Hood startled them for a third consecutive time (and really, what was with everyone having ghost feet?), the man marching towards Black Bat and nodding at Night-Robin on his way.

"Hood, late as usual." The latter acknowledged the nod in what appeared to be a civil tone, motioning them to remain standing behind him (they were all too gladly to comply), while he took his seat on the table.

"Had a hot date that I couldn't ditch, not that you would know anything about that."

"Tsk,"

"Really? Who's crazy enough to date you?" Batgirl easily joined the strange banter. Lian exchanged a look with her friends, deciding to keep quiet; Iris had Jai on her mic., and was talking with her twin in soft tones that made their chat unintelligible.

"You're not one to cast stones, Barbie, what with dating _Replacement _of all people."

"_Hey!_"

"Hood has a point, Fatgirl."

Lian and Iris gasped at the insult.

"That's no way to talk to a _dama (3)_." Milagro hissed, swatting the young man's head like a pesky fly earning a surprised huff from the older teen at the action, and some chuckles from the other side. "That's no way to talk to _anyone._"

"Insolent—"

"That was hilarious!" Batgirl grinned, making her way to her seat. "You should listen to your teammates, Damian, might learn a thing or two, especially since we're on the dating subject."

"_Shut up_, Brown."

"Good to see you've retained humor despite the circumstances." Red Robin said them as he entered the room, nodding at everyone—even them—and taking his seat. "I'm sure Batman will like it too." Then he turned to watch Red Hood with a frighteningly closed expression. "Lost?"

"'Wayward' more like, can't leave you kids all to Cass; not her fault you're way over your paycheck." Red Hood answered with deadly nonchalance, though everyone could feel the dangerous change in the atmosphere.

"If you're planning on more useless quarreling then get out." Batman's voice broke the upcoming argument, Lian barely able to keep from trembling at the voice while the three of them yelped _again _at the sudden apparition of the Bat. It suddenly dawned on her that they were here—in a meeting with _Batman._

"Better keep your leash in check," Red Hood drawled, not the least bit frightened to have that glare on him.

forever

Lian could safely swear the man was crazy on top of dangerous.

"Mind I remind you young Masters, that today's events were the product of the Criminally Insane working together?" Alfred—bless that man—entered the room, cane in hand and Batman took his seat at the Head. "Is it not enough to have that foul man waiting for punishment downstairs, either?"

Alfred had always been the one to keep the leash short, the archer conceded at the obvious change. Batman nodded, hands over the table in grave manner.

"Let's begin."

* * *

><p>(1) The Riddler's Territory.<p>

(2) Poison Ivy's Territory.

(3) lady.


	26. Rook, take my Queen

_**Author's Notes: **__This chapter is somewhat of a Prelude to something else. And fun to write with a lot of Bro's interaction—meaning Dick and Donna of course. _

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Violence, Foul language, Angst and fluff. Not a weird combination at all._

_Wednesday April 9__th__, 2014 Words: 4,479._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXVI.- Rook, take my Queen._

_-~20:01hrs. Upper East District, Gotham City._

The amazon princess had landed them nearby Gotham U., the only place Dick could recall lacked ownership (except for some gangs they found on their way). From there it was a straight path to get to Robbinsville (1) without getting lost, problem with that was going through any of the surrounding Districts. His first option consisted of crossing through the Trigate Bridge (skirting around the Asylum), and avoid Crime Alley (2) and The Bowery (3) like the plague. The aerialist couldn't remember who was in charge of the latter, only that it'd always been dangerous; somehow he doubted something like that would change.

"_Quite the celebration_," Donna said, peering at his left side childishly. The City was in an uproar; goons scattered everywhere with too much ammo to risk it,—it made his scowl deepen while reconsidering their limited options. This was not the city he'd last seen, so he would keep relying on Bruce's words.

_Criminals, by nature, are a cowardly and superstitious lot._

"_This way_,"

Down towards the pier they went, sticking like glue at a leisurely slow pace in favor of keeping covert—and basically away from anything that wasn't part of any of the most zealous Heads.

He was _really_ gonna regret this.

"_Through here_,"

Donna followed him, squirming uneasily through the dirtiest parts of the alleyways up to the outskirt of the District, where she opted on floating just a little above ground level when he descended into muddy terrain; they could clearly make out the form of the Asylum below the Trigate Bridge; had it always been so big? Maybe they did some re-decorations.

His friend stopped his wandering mind with a hand over his shoulder; reality sinking back to him in a sudden wave.

That was scary.

"_What are you doing_?" She scolded him with trepidation glimpsing the murky waters. Dick knew she understood him enough to get the gist. "_You'll freeze half-way in_,"

"_It's too risky with the two in the air_," It went both ways, and he saw the realization dawn on her face: somebody would see them _even_ through the mist, "_don't worry, we'll use this_." He said unstrapping the shield he carried. "_We just need something to row_."

The amazon nodded, her gray beanie falling to her eyes with the movement; he chuckled when she pulled it upwards again with a pout. "_You really think it'll keep us afloat_?"

Dick shrugged non-committal, his own brown jacket stiff and uncomfortable against his frame.

"_It's our best shot, worst comes to worst you hover above it as close as you can and I take a dip_."

"_As long as you don't get sick; it's not going to be warm_."

"_I'm more worried you get tired and fall to the water from pushing yourself_."

She sighed at his rebuttal, handing him a stick that seemed to be strong enough as an oar. "_Just holler if you need me, honey_." Donna couldn't deny it; it was in the lapse of her shoulders and the fatigue behind her eyes.

"_Aye, Ma'am_," he grinned what with looking like a pirate. Donna chuckled merrily and helped him set sail.

* * *

><p>Crossing the canal towards the Sprang River was a intrepid task. His makeshift shield was cold as ice and lacked balance with his weight alone—even if Dick had grace to spare his body earned for a well-deserved break, making it worse. He'd been way-in-over his head thinking the dumb thing could handle their weight combined.<p>

Like that wasn't enough the pipes had been old and rusty; it was only natural for the water to leak-in in his slowness to keep the thing steady, and the heavy weight of his own backpack was the sole reason his new sneakers were soaked.

At least they were on the mouth of the river—the only consolation to the whole thing.

Maybe they could make it to Sprang Bridge.

He glared at the stupid water, his legs tired of crouching; he had to keep shifting his feet to the edges of the rusty thing, so he really doubted they'd be able to keep this useless junk for much. Dick had kept his eye open for any piece of wood as a substitute for a while now.

"_You think_—"

"_-go_!" Dick ordered as he jumped from the scrap of metal, kicking it towards the emerging figure in the water, his left hand grasping Donna's forearm as she took a hurried flight through the misty river.

"_Where_ _to_?" She whispered agitated. They've been spotted already; it was a matter of time now.

"There's supposed to be a Bridge nearby, I'll take it from there."

"Got it."

They've definitely lost Croc; the whole problem was his short-tempered bestie when he wasn't in the mood to be alone.

"I think... I see it,"

Dick squinted, cursing the dumb bandage that took more of his lost sight for interfering in a clearer view (he wondered if horses felt like this too). When he made-out something big ahead of them, he let go of one of Donna's hands to reach for his grapple.

"We'll take it either way: on my word." His whole body tensed in preparation for Donna's weight; they've been losing altitude since she started flying, there was no need for him to point it out. "_Now_!"

Donna's grunt of relief was his only warning when she let loose, her body collapsing on top of him. Her arms went to his shoulders even when they kept falling—trusting him to keep his part. He heard the grapple against the metal even this far from it, and Dick pulled with clenched teeth, changing their gravity. At the adjustment in altitude both of them sagged in understandable relief; Donna sighing with her head against his backpack, her arms around him with just a speck of strength—too close to dead weight. He didn't have time to maneuver her to his front for a better hold, so he held the upper strap of her own backpack with all his strength instead.

His whole body shook from effort; muscles throbbing and screaming in protest at the abuse when _finally_ both Titans descended on the metallic construction, heaving shamelessly on their place in the concrete barely intact.

"That-could've gone-better,"

"Sorry, Wonder girl—this's as good as it gets,"

"Of course it is." She panted, gathering herself from the floor little by little; hands resting on her knees, ignoring the hitch of her little dress. "We lost your boat,-so please tell me we don't need to do that again."

He shook his head, collecting his breath after looking around curiously and scratching behind the cloth on half his upper face.

It was _really_ itchy_._

"Thank Hera," Donna breathed out deeply, marine eyes mimicking his action, "any idea where we are?"

"Can't say I do." He frowned rubbing his sweat-off; his mind was blank despite all the effort in apparently getting there. "We'll head south, if only 'cause there was no reason but precaution to cross the river in the first place."

"Sounds like a plan; the sky hasn't darkened any more that's at least some good news,"

"Must be close to 10," he motioned for Donna to follow him, stepping into the other side of the city.

"There's no stars—the sky is empty."

"Yeah, they would've made navigating _easier_; must be all the pollution coming from west. There are barely any fabrics working in Gotham to be the trigger," Dick acknowledged peering at the abandoned cars filling the bridge; might find something useful.

"I don't like it; it's unnatural..." The Titan muttered, adjusting the straps of her cargo on the light jacket. "Dick, I know you have your reasons, but are sure about this?"

"There's hardly room to be sure about anything anymore, Donna." He answered without missing a beat, studying the roundness of her face coupled with big eyes that lacked the youth she carried, his own blue looking past her dark hair that covered the sides of her face alongside that ridiculous scarf; she might've looked like any other kid struggling to make it but she wasn't. "… I'm sorry it has to be like this."

"…you're hardly the one to apologize, Dick."

"No; I'm not." He told her going back to watch the road and seizing any other attempt at conversation; the Roma was fully aware of his selfish actions—Donna didn't have to placate his involvement. They continued by foot, the City silent for a change when they finally crossed the dumb thing. He tried to ransack his brain for what they were supposed to do now; Dick felt lightheaded with the adrenaline gone, and Donna had been slowing her pace too.

Situation like it was they needed some rest and a secluded place to be safe while they slept and took turns on watch. By the looks of it they'd made their way into the heart of the District; shouldn't be that hard to find a good spot with how empty it was.

"Better share what you're thinking Boy Wonder, I can hear your brain sizzling," the amazon whispered, peeking with him behind the mailbox, probably trying to see what got his attention.

He signaled with his head at the Pottery Store at their 2'.

"Might be a good place to catch some z's."

The girl hummed in consideration. "Good enough for me; I'm _beat_."

"I hear ya, feels like we've been on the road forever." Donna sighed dramatically, nodding in agreement. "..it also takes this nostalgia thing to a whole other level, and that's just pushing it."

She chuckled completely delighted; her girlish laugh like tinker bells against the sullen atmosphere. It was enough to lift his spirits.

Their merriment didn't last long, as per usual, since noises could be heard the closer they got to their target; clumsy feet inside uncaring of the shattered clay that was probably there beforehand ("_alarm system included"_ Dick had advertised with Donna when they decided it was a good enough place). If there were people inside it was not worth the trouble.

His glare must've spoken for him, 'cause Donna gripped his left shoulder forcing him to turn his whole head to see her.

"There are other places, but we could take them."

Grunting, he looked back to the establishment; the noises hadn't stopped, and to top things some laughter now accompanied the annoying mix.

"At least we weren't inside,"

He could agree with that. "It's all about the timing." Dick said cheekily, earning a smile and a tousle of his hair from the warrior.

"Thank, Hera for that," her amused expression did a one-eighty in par with breaking noises; eyes widening at the ruffle coming from the pottery. "-it can't be..."

A grown man crashing into the window of the business followed the sudden commotion, rolling to the dirty street just two meters from them, coughing and grunting in paint, followed by another two who weren't in any better condition; these ones less than a meter from their hiding spot.

It was instinct that made him push Donna's head below him with more force than what was necessary. He heard the girl grunt in pain when she fell to the ground from the sudden motion, but he would rather apologize later than risk it. With that in consideration, Dick didn't let her gather her wits, pushing her with his left feet to his right side, hoping she got the hint and hid somewhere.

Donna gasped at the rough treatment, but thankfully the meats groaning in residual pain filtered her good enough.

"What's-?!" the closest slurred, stopping short when he caught sight of him (not Donna) crouching next to the trashcan. "A _kid_?!"

He doubled his effort in kicking her out of the way, the girl finally understanding the meaning and crawling away from him. He risked a glance to his right when he took a step away from the goon who was trying to gather himself from his place on the street and saw the amazon princess beneath the car on their right, hiding like a cat.

"Ackkk!" The goon choked in pain before falling face first to the concrete. The standing pair closed-on the gaping man, stopping short at his presence.

"_Robbie_?!"

"...oh bother,"

"Dios mío (4)-what're you doing here?" Milagro completely ignored the goons and jumped to stand in front of him, her face an exaggerated amount of worry when she crouched to be on his eye-level. "What_ happened _to you...?"

His face. Right.

The meats' sudden yelps on their way to unconsciousness saved him from any further questioning, making the young woman turn back to their conquest with an agitated breath and handgun at the ready.

Her whole body language was completely different from the last time they've met; more confident, strong, and with a defensive stance that didn't have as many open holes like before. It took some weight of his shoulders, knowing this was all the product of his family's training. Even as she stood completely immobile he could see traces of Steph's involvement with some of Damian's own style that mimicked his own.

She still needed finesse and knowing how to identify a succumbing treat from a live one though.

"_Never_ lose sight of an enemy, Gina. Right now you're as good dead." Red Hood spoke with forced nonchalance ignoring the loud crack of one man's hand under his boot that begged him to stop.

"There's a kid—"

"You think these bean-sacks will care? With a show like that you've only drawn their attention to him."

"You're watching my back—"

"I seem to recall you saying the exact opposite ten minutes ago; teenagers, man." Jason scoffed moving her away from him with murderous composure. "Now this is a sight for sore eyes."

He felt his stomach churn; his head still lagged and foggy from the strenuous journey. Dick had known it was probable to run-into someone, just not Red Hood.

Well, poop; if that didn't come to bite him right in the behind.

"You're scaring him-"

"He's out here on his own when he shouldn't be; I doubt much scares him." Then he cocked his head and Dick cursed the helmet for hiding how angry he was in a scale from 'Damian' to 'Crowbar.'

"Hi," Dick chanced, nodding politely in par with a grin at the girl to then return his attention to Jason.

"Robbie, we've been worried sick! _What _in the world are you doing here all by yourself?!"

"Raise that high-pitch some more, Gina; I don't think the Falcone's heard you." Jason scolded the girl, and she glared at him, hand tightening on her gun; ah, and here he thought they might gotten along were, weapon preferences and all.

"I was just looking for you guys—" he interjected before things got out of hand.

"Seems more like sneaking away after emptying the cookie-jar to me." His brother crossed his arms over his chest, and Dick almost glared at him for making things difficult. Crowbar level it was.

"Wait, you were trying to find us?" Milagro stepped in between them just as confused.

"Your generation has a thing for restating the obvious, just throwing it out there." And because Jason was not one to be ignored—nor his justified/unjustified anger—he apparently decided to keep being an asshole.

"And you make it hard to see past the worst of your family's resemblance," Milagro glared back, "you don't know him—and he's a little kid who's been through a lot. Even your brother took priority in taking him to safety instead of giving him a good scold." She said glancing back towards his face in poorly-concealed regret. "This is no place for him to wander on his own—and everyone told us he was _safe_—what right do you have to talk to me like that; are you out of your mind?"

"You're the one screaming at the guy with the AK-47. Stop complaining and go check that place, think you can manage without screwing up?"

"You can't be serious: we need to take Robbie back, and let the others know."

"I'm fine; weren't there more people in there?" He intervened, grasping Jason's leather jacket on his small fist. "Whoa, you _are _Red Hood! Can I see your gun?" He asked with many teeth, ignoring the frown marring Milagro's face.

"No." He placed his gun away from him, and he faked a pout. "Gina, I won't make a habit of repeating myself."

"Pero (5)—"

"You shouldn't question Red Hood, Milagro." Dick chastised the girl, frown visible to her naked eyes and getting a firmer grip on the man's wrist. "Hey, can you teach me how to shoot?"

"—fine! But you are coming back with us; you've a lot to explain jovencito (6)." The girl pointed at him, stepping back into the store with an undignified huff.

He kept pestering the taller man about nonsense until they had to strain their ears to hear the cross teen moving things about.

"… that was some stupid shit you did, _dick._" Jason said above a whisper; he let go of his wrist, feeling the tendons tightening in his anger.

"No need for _name-calling_, I get it." Dick replied sullenly, glaring at the taller man and using his larger figure to hide his form.

"Doesn't seem like it—it could've gone bad really fast with you on your own. How many times do I have to keep telling you that to get it through your _thick skull_?" Jason sneered, lowering his head at him (freakishly tall). "Do you even have any idea what happened today?"

"Easy boys." Donna reemerged from her hiding spot, maintaining herself crouched nearby the tire. Jason gasped, almost taking a step back in his surprise to see her. Dick felt annoyance at the back of his mind; did Jason really have that little faith in him? He had obviously gone alone to get her out. "You guys are terrible at this; why is 'this' a thing?" She asked them, ignoring the others shocked silence (Donna had always been the most level-headed of his friends for a reason), scowling at him too. Dick grouched at the treatment.

"What happened to being on my side?" The amazon raised back an eyebrow, and he sighed in mock offense.

"Now what?" Donna asked them, her voice even lower ever-pending of Milagro's return. "I don't suppose we could go,"

"I don't think so. Jays?"

"The jury's still out on that, though with the pesky package you've left us back there there's hardly any choice." A sigh from the man.

"Jason, there's no need to be nasty." Donna reprimanded, the grown man turning away in irritation. "It is good to see you, you know; it's been a while."

"…you're lucky the lady vouches for you."

"Not my fault the ladies usually find me more pleasant, Jays; it's my natural charm."

"Don't let it go through your head, Boy Wonder; Jason's got a point." Donna chastised him to Jason's amazement and he glared at her, jaws clenching at her bringing it up with Jason here. "You know I didn't mean it like that, sweetie. It's just-… you went alone," She almost pleaded him, and he understood, but it didn't mean he agreed with her.

"We got here fine," he still grumbled, eye towards the store for Milagro, "might as well, we were actually hoping to spend the night there."

"They might know of you, but not her." Both watched Donna, who frowned in understanding. "What were you planning in case this happened?" Jason scoffed at him, the underlying accusation at being kept in the dark present in his voice.

"… call Damian." Dick decided "Who's with him?" He barely whispered motioning for Donna to hide again; she hid without complaint, flashing Jason a smile before tucking away beneath the car while the military girl approached them. He relaxed his expression to something less severe, grabbing again at the man and bouncing on the soles of his feet in feigned excitement.

"_Speedster_," Jason motioned with his fingers as they reached to tap his head like a dog. He tightened his grip, pressing at indistinct rates on his pulse to relay his plan—Morse code. When Jason tapped at his head back in the same fashion his body relaxed visibly, and his smile was genuine.

"Nothing here," Milagro greeted when she approached them, crossing her arms with a worried glance, "are we even sure she's here? Nobody's found anything—"

"Get me my brother on the line." He made to grab Dick's shoulder, pushing him forward and away from Donna. "C'mon, Gina; we're sitting ducks here."

"What—you don't have…you know what, why do I even bother? Aguanta (7)," she pushed the mic. on her ear, waiting for the other side to answer, "Jai?...Yeah, it's me, hey, can you get Night-Robin to answer? He's avoiding us again." A pause. "Thanks,"

"This is Milagro speaking…yes, position is secure." The girl looked him over behind Jason, taking her eyes away when the man inclined his head in question. "…Red Hood asked me to get you, I'll put him through." Dick couldn't hear anything from the small plug when then girl stepped over and gave it to Jason, but feigned a yawn when those brown eyes went over them again.

She could use some practice on discretion.

"How far are you from 31st, and Bakery?" Sound from the other line when Jason nodded, apparently satisfied with Damian's answer. "Be here in half that time. We're next to the nightclub, by the alley. Gina will be on the lookout for Freckles so you don't get lost." Jason finished his message, and Dick almost smiled; it was a smart way of letting Damian know Iris was expected to stay with Milagro while he and Jason chatted. "Thanks, Gina. Now go there and stand watch. They shouldn't take long."

Milagro glared, but held her head and went to do as ordered, reading her small gun in a silent reminder to the grown Vigilante. They wouldn't wait long by the looks of it.

"C'mere," Jason muttered, completely ignoring the useless demonstration of power. He was crouching next to a porch waiting for him. Dick wasted no time in sitting himself, tugging his backpack in place to distract himself from the fact that Donna was alone in the open street. Jason wasted no time to examine his eye beneath the dirty rags, "why is it that I always find you dirty?" the man muttered under his breath, shoulders relaxing when they found him no different than before.

The silly thing was only for aesthetic purposes, really.

He let him fret over easily though, trying to relax a little now that Jason was there to keep guard if things went south. Every once in a while something would take him out of his stupor: a can rolling in the street, papers flying consequence of the noisy wind, and the distant sound of bullets flying sporadically appearing like fireworks; each time Jason's presence was enough to ground him, even with Donna a few meters back.

He was thankful when hurried paces followed by Milagro getting out of her position stopped that cycle that had been slowly consuming away his energy. Iris appeared next to the older teen, waving a hello to her, with Damian quickly breaking what may have been Milagro telling on him.

"_West, help Reyes keep watch._" He saw his little brother signal with strong punctuated gestures, no doubt for the sake of the girls.

Iris's eyes went almost out of their sockets when she spotted him with Jason, but she held her position, nodding and turning away after an infectious smile and a small wave on his direction he quickly copied.

Apparently Damian wasn't in any better mood than Jason was, if his long-strict strides towards them told him anything. Still, what else than feign innocence?

"Hey, Night-Robin," he saluted the teen who took a step in front of him, effectively hiding him from view. His tired smile spoke of his appreciation at the gesture.

"_What are you doing here_?" Night-Robin signaled without the previous leisure on his hands; strictly keeping his gestures to their personal sing-language and out of the view from the girls. "_What is he doing here, Hood_?"

"_Don't look at me like that, Junior. As if I had a clue on what's on his stupid bird-brain._"

"_No reason for name-calling._" Dick stated again; angry at both their efforts to irritate him further. "_Damian, I need to get to the Cave._"

Damian did a double take.

"_Easy, Bluebird; you'll make the kid faint._"

Dick kicked the man's shin; there was no reason to ridicule the teen for showing emotion.

"_Keep out of it, Hood._" Damian added, almost scoffing at the taller man. "_Was there a reason to have me here to take you, Dick?_" Then after glancing at the man with the helmet he continued. "_Did Hood _refused_ to take you to the Cave_?"

Oh-uh. Backtrack, backtrack!

"_What are you implying—I called you, you little shit._"

"_Jason said you guys were looking for something here; Milagro can't take me there by herself._" He interjected before things got violent or the young girls too curious as to why they were taking as long.

"_If you don't think you can do it I'll just call, Cass. She was my first option anyway._"

"_Nonsense. Grayson will come with me._" A pause. "_Have you been informed_?"

Dick blinked, effectively answering what Damian had implied. He kept the act, looking back at Jason with a frown behind his gas-mask to receive a non-committal shrug.

"_I'll finish scouting; just make sure he _stays _in the Cave this time._" With that Red Hood tousled his dirty mane of hair, the hidden pressure behind his cranium a simple 'yes', to his part in the plan. Dick scowled, taking Damian's side when they made their way out of the alley and to the girls.

Jason, ever the charmer, took out his grapple and went away (probably the roof), earning questioning glances in brown and green.

"_Hood will finish scouting. We are to get back to the Cave._" Night-Robin took over, placing a hand over his shoulder that Dick took as his cue to stare open-mouthed at their communication methods before smiling brightly at the tense grins of Iris, and Milagro.

"_Got it._"

They took to the streets, Dick holding Damian's hand, already preparing himself for the next part.

If his body betrayed him when he turned back to watch Donna's faltering smile he did not show it, even when the continuing distance made his limbs throb with spectacular force in retaliation.

She was in good hands.

* * *

><p>(1) Catwoman's Territory.<p>

(2) Joker's Territory.

(3) Scarecrow's Territory.

(4) My God—

(5) "But—"

(6) "[…] young man."

(7) Hang on,


	27. Blue Skies to Ashes Ashes to Blue

_**Author's Notes: **__This monster is all about Flashbacks (been a while), and also as an interlude to what's going to happen in the nearby-future. Plus, you get to know the name of someone. Had way too much fun with the character's interaction; it's the whole reason behind it being long. Enjoy.  
><em>

**_Timeline updated up-until before this chapter._**

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Violence, Gore, Explicit child-violence, Foul language, Angst and fluff. _

_Monday April 28__th__, 2014 Words: 7,313._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXVII.- Blue Skies to Ashes; Ashes to Blue._

_-~Flashback: February 2017 (10 months ago), New Orleans, Louisiana.~-_

_Sometimes Jason had to wonder. _

_It would be so easy to stay in one of his many safe-houses that he'd found over the course of the years and just__…__be _done. _Because what was the point, really? Granted, he didn't consider himself a quitter (one of the few features of his that weren't character flaws to Bruce), but every so often he wondered if there was a point in fighting at all. _

_He'd stood through many stages of his life, before and after Batman, and no matter the circumstances, the street-rat had found a motive to keep going; a purpose to make something good out of this opportunity, a chance to make things right, the possibility of revenge and keeping others from suffering his same fate; he took anything life__—__and death__—__threw at him, and he made sure to wear the scars for everyone to see, because Jason Todd did not quit, because Jason Todd actually _made _a difference._

_Then again now what?_

_He grunted in distaste at his circumstances; Jason was patient, and overly-attentive of his own research. The man was completely aware you couldn't expect things to fall to your lap from the sky for you to take, and he was more than okay with that part; not like he trusted anyone with getting his job done__—__you want something, you do it yourself, a great life motto. He was so accustomed to being out of a team or duo, or anything that wasn't him and him alone, that he was used to assume a certain level of effectiveness on his tasks. _

_Therefore he wasn't exactly "leader material", you wouldn't see Jason stating otherwise (that had always been more the Golden Boy's alley, 'cause it was better to work without additional cargo), what he was however was a trained perfectionist with a high-rate of expectation from his new subordinates, thus it was better for everyone to hand all logistics to him; Net and Mage hadn't questioned his new role._

_It added something new for him to focus almost obsessively over; Jason knew it would take time, yet__…_

_3 years and nothing._

'Well,' _he reconsidered begrudgingly, _'2 years, 10 months and 5 days, and _nothing_.' _It didn't help any. Net had ran out of clues he could dismantle; Mage more of a pain the ass; and him? _He_ was weary of investing all he had in himself without so much as a smoke signal letting him know he was in the right direction__—__letting him know he was getting results instead of playing around the part of the Pawn: completely expendable. _

_Completely _replaceable_._

_Those two had been nagging him for the past three months to get the support of the Replacement to increase their percentage of success. He wasn't in the mood to relieve the past; been there, was done that, care to move on?_

_It wasn't fair__—__and yes, he knew he sounded like a stupid angst-y teenager when he put it like that, but it didn__'__t make it any less true; he__'__d stood-by for the last couple of years__—__almost_ _three years__—__in front of the fire, risking his neck, giving his time, sacrificing his sleep and reopening wounds that were best left forgotten because _they _had something to offer _him_, and after almost three-years' worth of his hard-earned work, they wanted to place someone else to take it all away__—__to make it all useless because they thought they knew better?_

_This was why he preferred to work solo. Well talk was cheap and so were they; Jason had more than an Ace under his sleeve (pros of always keeping most findings). While tempting to run off after pushing them down the cliff for threatening his position on his _own _agenda, he decided to go with his guts one more time before calling it quits._

_Living like this wasn't healthy any more. It would be devastating for his ego, and maybe some innermost parts of him Jason decided were not worth the trouble of acknowledging, but at least letting the two traitorous-snakes burn in a fire of his own making would alleviate some of that._

_Not quite 'nothing personal'; he definitely wouldn't be losing any sleep, and there was that additional perk of 'no loose ends'._

_Jason scowled while resting on top of the large tree of the Bayou gathering his focus back on his final act of retaliation. _

_The smart way to go was through the Lagoon, some of the 'gators left were there to keep militaries away from the waters, therefore he swam under the Bayou, between the large canopy of trees, towards the hidden sewers of the facility; fixated on getting somewhere, on finding something to set him free__—__either way really. _

_Half-way in__—__because _of course_—__he spotted the Bat-brat entering the grounds. _

_The Red Hood almost growled in frustration (maybe he did; his helmet might've lessened the sound of it anyway), the little Prince wasn't doing anything that could potentially give him away, thus the rest of Jason's best lead to terminate his self-made contract was still on the go, but it was only a matter of time with his luck._

_Manipulating an already manipulated facility__—__especially from another Bat__—__was too high a risk to consider undergoing. _

_Decision made Red Hood followed through a more obscure path, taking a soldier's gun after asphyxiating the man; he continued his path the same way he started, ridding of the stupid forces that stood on his way._

_The Vigilante had been watching the secret enterprise for the past four days__—__a day earlier and he would__'__ve avoided this__—__he__'__d calculated the possible outings and found most of the hidden cameras from the shady place with Superman__'__s comings and goings._

_It was his strongest lead for the past five months__—_five months_. He would sooner ruin it himself than let someone else do it._

_On his seventh kill the alarm flared, all personal coming out of their hiding spots towards him (and probably the demon child on the upper floors), giving him the additional push to haste his way inside._

_There had to be a tunnel somewhere; these sickos loved being underground with everything dead. At his next execution he found it: war vehicles. _

_During the second day he'd established they forged iron, steel and other metals for equipment and several machinery__—__Jason had stopped himself from stealing ammo and cargo on more than one occasion for his own sake__—__he was glad he made his way to their precious transportation department, all fire and cold. In there was the piece that would help him__—__a drilling tank half painted with red and black._

_It was meant to be._

_He made use of the vehicle; the controls were easy enough and the walls he pierced fell with the heavy floors above them, burying the soldiers that trailed behind him with ill-placed commitment. It also had a radio that Jason shamelessly took advantage of, tipping-him of all the enemy's attempts to subdue him and the other intruder that hadn't been completely identified nearing the floor above Alpha's den__—_

_That made him change his set of priorities; it meant something. The place was full of nobodies, nothing special to it except their thriving industry of steel and metal that they named accordingly to its making. Jason had planned in letting Bruce's son to deal with the damage while he did his own, but now__…_

_With the location of the demon child on his tank he roughly pushed everything and everyone out-of-his way into it, crumbling wall after wall after floor; finally reaching the aforementioned teenage-sidekick faster than anyone could imagine when he went up._

_The bastards were smart when they made the effort__—__the hidden level towards Alpha hidden in between the juncture of two regular floors__—__completely out of view (and incredibly reduced by the looks of it). _

_When he got out of the tank and faced the disgruntled teen he swallowed the unsavory taste of the new hero's colors; Red Hood had a renewed purpose with a limited time-frame. '_Better make the brat go away,'_ he thought; the taunting towards the smaller male natural on his voice._

_Running out of time, he made his way towards his objective, ignoring the indignant steps behind him. Jason could hardly remember the last time he felt this fire within him; this spark that led him further and further, so he forgo all those around him either dying or bothering him with their own existence. _

_That only changed when the brat challenged him, grasping his forearm with strength the street-rat hadn't known the kid had on him, and snarling like a beast._

_"_What _is your problem, _brat_?"_ _He sneered, about to pull his forearm away from the pesky teen. _

_"_You _are, Hood. _That _is _Dick's _watch you Neanderthal savage!" The other sneered back at him, and what inner peace Jason had been channeling towards the culmination of his path was broken. With years of expertise he reversed the hold and subdued the almighty Prince to the soil with his boot pressing into his back; the teenager would be regretting leaving his mask back in Gotham. _

_"__Listen to me, you little __dipshit_," _Jason hissed, barely stopping from pulling both triggers to the back of the teen's head. "__I don't have time to play _**_babysitter_**_ until the _**_Replacement_**_ arrives for your sorry ass, so do yourself a favor and stay out of my way.__"_ _He didn't held-back the rough push from his foot to shovel the brat towards the dirty soil in reprimand. The little shit had also been responsible for Dick's constant troubles in their time as a pair, even if the aerialist had love the brat to pieces; it was only to honor that that stopped his hand on the trigger. _

_He often wondered why no one extended him the same courtesy. Jason had kept a close eye on their whereabouts to increase his data, and knew the only reason the bats in the cave gave each other space and (rarely) handed out assistance was for Dick, who'd always played the part of the peace-keeper. _

_Well, not like he needed them._

_"__You__ don't order me around, Todd, and __that __doesn't belong to you. So you better explain yourself before I decide to__—__ugh! Are you __deficient__? Watch where you're go__—__"_

_Jason hadn't even been paying close attention to the demon less he was aggravated enough to shoot him again (then his good intentions from before would be for nothing), and rightfully disregarded the barely standing teen when he slammed against his back, just so stirring his rigid frame. Behind the helmet his masked-eyes remained glued to the juncture of bodies that were working as the small chamber's tapestry. It was a mixture of angry reds and foul odors that even permeated both of his masks. _

_The whole thing was a redo of Jeepers Creepers (an old favorite__—__probably not anymore after this) with the Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the side, however beneath the live specimens__—__children that twitched from different stimulus brought by needles piercing through their small arms and thin necks, he saw a huge container that had a mix of red water and things he was sure he was better-off not thinking about. Then, a speck of black flickered inside the moving liquids; his eyes fixated to that diminutive movement, recognizing it as hair, and he knew._

"_Found you." Jason muttered under-his-breath incredulous and body trembling in contained effort to not fall apart against the disgusting scenario. Behind him he could barely recognize the brat falling to his knees and disposing of his stomach contents, no doubt feeling the consequences of the ambiance double hand. His mind woke-up with that, becoming aware of the increasing sound of heavy steps and bullets approaching their vicinity. _

_The kid wasn't fully alert, so he slammed him on the back of his neck, sending him completely to the floor: heaving and crying in revulsion while he dealt with the small portion of guards that reached them. Jason put an end to them with deadly efficiency, not wasting a single bullet, and completely knocking the teen unconscious when he passed him over. _

_Better for both of them._

_He pulled the brat by his healthy-arm (he saw the red coming from a previous shot on his other extremity) and adjusted him against some machinery to shield the kid from any upcoming-attacks._

_Might as well kill two birds with one stone; the others wanted an extra Bat in the team and he an eye to make sure the demon didn't spill the beans._

"_Crap," Jason mumbled, his mind was completely on autopilot, and only now was he registering he hacked the systems and closed the emergency-doors leading to the unorthodox room with low ceiling. From there, he stepped over trying to access the files to have at least the gist of how to make the flask work. Every once in a while he would glance towards the thing even if it was too dirty with red and brown to distinguish anything inside._

"_Screw it." More soldiers were now banging on the doors, using their bullets against their cover, and he was done__—_done._ Not wasting ammo, he took hold of a Batarang and aimed at the very top of the flask. The glass cracked the slightest bit; it should've broke, so it meant the glass was too thick, in which-case there wasn't much finesse Jason could afford to give. So he went full-on on attacking the spot with the kid's explosive-gel (only a small amount). The Vigilante only turned to his side to cover his face from the blast; true enough, the glass yielded creating a web from the fracture below. It was enough__—__with the amount of water that drained from the upper part Jason saw him._

_Only a forehead, enough to merit another two bigger portions of the gel and breaking the damn thing with pent-up rage that increased further, and further in-time with the water draining, allowing him a complete visage of someone he thought he would never find._

"Dick—"_ His brother was almost exactly like the last time he saw him on that awful day__—__because his hair had grown, and his body was mangled beyond what he__'__d seen at the podium where he was executed. Hesitantly, he reached to grab his face; unsure if the pulsing red from his skin was from the soiled water or not, and taking care of any glass remnants that would further damage his dead-skin._

_This was it__—__he could finally reach peace by granting Dick the opportunity to rest. Those _miserable scumbags _had done awful things to his body__—__Jason would make them _pay_ for it, ALL of them__—__but then his gloved hand ran-over the corpse's skin, just around the strange mask, and felt warmth; the skin was taut not postmortem, and his world twisted upside down with his eyes widening so much the vigilante feared they would pop-out of their sockets. _

_Fumbling for words Jason made the connection; the epiphany hitting him square in the chest__—__the heart-monitor wasn__'__t from the children that twitched, it was from the flask-__…__the mask allowed the man to _breathe.

_He wanted to throw-up in revulsion; to _cry_ and _yell_ and _kill **everyone**_ in this whole stinking Wildlife Refuge... he hadn't found a corpse__—__he__'__d found his brother, _alive_ and _mangled_, and _**why**_ was it that things were never fair to the people who deserved it?_

_The door creaked from its hinges, no doubt about to yield at any moment, so he unplugged all those cables connecting Dick to his prison then cut through the steel cuffs with the demon's toys, to receive the full dead (but _not _dead) weight of his brother. He tore-off his helmet, to yank-off his oxygen-mask for Dick and the acrobat coughed into the mask when the vigilante replaced it from the original. The sound threatened his knees to give-out; this was real__—__Dick was really _alive_._

"_Easy, Bluebird, easy." Jason gave the aerialist some pats on the back, rubbing comforting circles on the wet skin; the odors were leaving him dizzy without his cover (he could swear he saw a glimpse of blue during the coughing fit). The guards were one-too-many to risk it with Dick and the demon brat in tow. _

'Mage!' _Life as it was, Jason could spare his pride if it got them away. Dick was shivering from the contrast of being drenched and out in the clammy room__—__maybe even about to have a seizure__—__he'd had enough of this room._

'Oh, you done with the silent treatme—'

'I've got two living with me, and waiting for a get-out since yesterday!' _Jason gritted out in the confines of his mind, threatening the younger-man to make any more comments about his decision to keep them out of his range._

'... fine. Just grab your party, I'll get you her—' _the man sounded bored, clearly not understanding the situation; still, Jason made to grab the black hood of the demon. The door was almost taken away; some soldiers already charging at them through the small openings. He took some explosives from his belt, tossing them towards the room. _

_He would _not _leave this place be._

'Blue skies accomplished! Get. Us. Out!' _Jason snarled on his mind, feeling the strange numbness of his bones whenever the mage transported them from one place to another._

_Nowadays the former Robin was used to being magically transported from point 'A' to point 'B' yet, there hadn't been times like this one: where Jason found himself underneath Dick's heavy weight on the cold ceramic floor with his other arm crushed beneath the unconscious third-wheel. _

_Brat sure was growing._

_Immediately Jason gathered himself__—__the magician would make his entrance any minute now__—__and left the demon where he landed, crouching next to the Roma's prone form to shield him from the careless Mage._

_Uncertain where he found the strength to carry the other man to the room upstairs (Dick was _heavy_), he made quick work on ridding him from the muck and wastes clinging on him. Bile kept rising on his throat at the better inspection of the undead man; what had they done to him__…__?_

"_Jason__—__is that__—__?__"__ He stepped-away from his brother and into the face of the more leaner-smaller man, redirecting his attention and closing the door behind him. _

_The young-man made a spectacle of covering his nose at the stench, shameless of showing his disgust (not that Jason needed a reminder to change into dry clothes)._

"_What? I want to see__—__"_

"_You'll wait to see him." At the upcoming refute Jason glared, promising retribution if his decision was questioned. "He's alive." _

"WHAT_?!"_

"_Keep it down, stupid. I need to take care of the demon-brat; you two will get what you want__—__Damian will work for us.__"_

"_I don't care about that__—__you__'__re saying Dick's _alive_! We weren't aware of this." He accused him, aiming towards the room again._

"_You knew I handle my own mission's." Jason spoke with eerily-calm-intent. "It doesn't change anything; but the Bat-brat is down, and I need to do damage control. I'll let you know of the specifics once I take care of things here. In the meantime consider this a Clandestine Stage and keep yourself on your main base."_

"_But__—__"_

"_They'll be on the lookout for us__—__we keep low until I say so. Understood?" Jason ordered. It would be a shame to kill an asset to their war effort, but he saw no problem on doing it._

_The cautious step-back from the magician after he thought that meant he had read his open-mind. Good__—__Jason had practically spelled-out for him; Bruce taught all his Robins how to avoid mind-reading, and Zatara knew it._

"_Net will know about this."_

"_I don't care, Mumbo. I'll send word for you when the next objective is clear." He dismissed the arrogant-young man who knew better than to keep-up his refusal, so he went to the kitchen with a curse and a glare that any Gotham citizen would laugh at. _

_Not like Zachary could do more: they had results now._

_Downstairs was quiet, just like the whole house, so he went back to the room, starting with the arduous job of cleaning his brother, clenching his jaw the whole-way at every finding on his skin._

_Later he spoke with Damian; an air of murderous composure, already having removed any evidence from Dick over the house, and then ordered Zatara to take him back to Gotham, after which his subordinate took his leave, and he was able to return with heavy strides to Dick. _

_It felt excessively surreal; this feeling of seeing his only family alive and tucked firmly under the covers of the master bedroom (the second room's bed was beyond the point of salvation)._

_"Sorry to keep you waiting__—__and for all that yelling__—__but I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere." He let himself fall on his chair by the bedside, determined on eradicating the horrid smell from the now cleaner acrobat._

_Maybe it _had_ been his imagination when two different sets of blue fluttered-open, because when he focused back on his Dick's face it was still sound asleep._

* * *

><p><em>The first time Dick woke-up Jason had been cleaning his guns. <em>

_He'd given-up on getting any sleep with the past 13 hours' worth of events spiraling without definite order. Mechanic chores always settled his troubled-mind; dissemble the gun to clean each-and-every part meticulously, then assemble it back again and repeat the process with the others. _

_It was his fifth time cleaning the same pistol._

"_J-Ja__—__"_

_Without his domino-mask in the way, his teal eyes went straightaway towards the hazy-blues of Dick, who made a horrible attempt at moving his arm towards him from his awkward position facing the mattress (his fingers were twitching, no doubt also atrophied); Dick wouldn't be able to move nor reach anything anytime soon._

"_Hey__—__hey, easy; here." He quelled the struggling Robin with a tentative hand on his shoulder-blade after tossing his gun away to reach for the bottle of water at his feet. He helped the older__—__well, the _once _older, it was a strange thing being older than Dick__—__man to swallow the liquid after pressing another pillow beneath his chest, taking it away when the Titan coughed and wheezed; his bandaged body jerking in uncontrollable-spasms in response. _

_Jason made sure to hold him in place. _

"_Jay__—__Jason..__"__ Dick blinked-wearily after he regained some control but Jason only saw red and clenched his teeth, barely restraining himself from punching a wall. With both eyes open, Jason could see the discoloration they've given him. _

"_Yeah," he uttered, looking away from the sight and taking the bottle again. He needed a distraction before he lost his temper with the one which least deserved it. "Think you can drink some more? Just a little though, don't want you christening the floor." Odd how he'd just said that hours ago to the demon brat._

"… _th-thaan__…_thanks_." Dick forced-out the word; Jason could understand the frustration in being seen like that, so he kept his eyes obediently away. "__…__ w-wheere?__"_

"_Safe. Do you feel any pain?" He asked, mentally kicking himself at the question: half his back was slit-open__—__of course he was in pain!_

"_Just,__…__ hung-gry,__"__ Dick, said, closing his eyes a second too long, __"__and__…__" __He cleared his throat, "confu-sed." _

_That was two of them, the street-rat had been nothing but not-confused this whole time. Actually, now that the circus-man was conscious and somewhat aware of his surroundings, he came to the realization that he had no idea what to do; what to expect._

_What to _say_._

"_Yeah, well, welcome to the club, I guess." Now he cleared his throat. "I have some food here, just let me help you up," he elaborated while he took hold of Dick's shoulders, trying to pull him to his side facing him, so he could then sit him up, and chose to overlook the hidden-grimace, "you'll have to take it easy, though, I just cleaned these sheets."_

"…_Jason, I__'__m sorry,__"__ Dick said, not even making it to lay on his side, and Jason looked back at the acrobat's face to find him almost asleep; half-face hidden beneath the pillows, "I'll sleep a litt-le; you eat." _

"…_if you__'__re sure__…__"__ Jason said hesitantly, eyebrows furrowed at the sleeping-man in leftover shame. Gathering his gear he stepped away from his chair and made to his own bedroom next-door, set on gathering some supplies and preparing an I.V. to feed the Golden Boy while he was slumbering. His feathers were too ruffled with Dick's eyes. He seemed responsive at least__—__hell, he__'__d recognized him when Jason had been busy and inattentive; that had to count for something. It was all cosmetic._

'Get it together; you died and came-back fucked-up too,—that practically makes you an expert on the subject.' _He'd certainly never felt the need to disguise it; that was why he felt so confused. In those hours before he got cleaning his guns he'd established he would be the best choice to help Dick understand the whole trauma behind coming back from the dead__—__especially a traumatizing death. It was perfect__—__so to speak; what woulda been perfect was the other man _not _dying in the first place._

_And yet, as soon as Dick got even close to saying something remotely-close to the subject, Jason had flown away scared-shitless._

"_Get your shit straight," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose and trying to ease his accelerated heart-beat. _

_He was just stressed, that's all. Next time he'd definitely be prepared._

* * *

><p>"<em>Hi, Jason." <em>

_He wasn't prepared._

"_Yeah," Dick coughed again, clearing his voice while staring at him with a set of sleepy-eyes and a lazy-smile, "these are our lives, huh," _

"_Yeah," Jason grimaced at his less than articulated answer, even if it didn't seem to deter the smile on the other bird's face._

"_I'm gonna open the can of worms and say we aren't in Gotham,"_

"_No."_

"_And that you're the only one who knows I'm here," There was a slight intake of breath from Dick that Jason wisely-decided to pay no attention to._

"_Yeah."_

_Such a way with words. He almost smacked himself to get in the picture. Here was Dick, completely lucid, and apparently aware of what happened, and Jason could do nothing more than use the basics of English-language._

"_Thanks." Jason's face faltered at Dick's unexpected confession; he honestly hadn't thought he'd heard a 'thanks' in all his pretend-conversations with himself about this, and Dick chuckling in amusement only made him feel slightly irritated at being left so unbalanced in a situation he created, "You brought me here,__…__you cleaned me and stitched me up," Dick said like he wasn't saying anything out of the ordinary, readjusting his chin again against the pillow beneath him, "you're even feeding me while we're at it," he signaled lightly with his head towards the I.V. above him. "Four-star Inn in my opinion."_

"_Yeah, well, you're welcome, I guess." Okay, he managed a sentence; now if he could actually say something smart he would be golden._

"_Good to know,__…__"__ Dick replied with sleepy undertones, his eyes dropping after he sat on his place by the bed, "suddenly__…__got tired__…__"_

"_Sleep." _

"_Seems__…__it__'__s__…__all I__…__do__…__"__ Dick chuckled quietly, surrendering to the anesthetic Jason added. It was highly probable the circus-man knew it, but was courteous enough to only imply it._

_It was time to redress his wounds__—__that was it (he definitely didn't chickened-out at the last minute). Better to start with the heavy task with Dick asleep._

_Reaching for his favorite knife he cut-through the sides of bandages covering the abused back, then with careful precision and steady-hands (that fortunately weren't erratic like the beat of his heart) he unclogged the wet rags smidge-by-smidge, trying to avoid any more peeling of the aerialist's back._

_Jason bit back a snarl once the first part was over; he'd tried to clean it as best as possible__—__he didn__'__t understand how Dick could still be moving (or trying to) after a wound like this__—__and was hoping for any signal to let him know he wasn't seeing any infection spurting from the wound. Hopefully by then, he'd be able to sew some skin to cover the vertebrae; however it didn't look any better._

'At least there's no infection; he'd be running a fever, and gibbering around.' _It was little consolation, but at this point he'd take it._

_Jason needed to get a grip; it was wrong to make Dick feel guilty just because he couldn't control his twitchy reactions._

"_Don't worry Bluebird, I got you." He promised, tempted to run his hand through the messy hair. At least Jason wasn't half-bad with a pair of scissors; the acrobat looked now a little more like himself. That was something to help him heal._

_Yeah; that was it then._

_Little-by-little, he would help the Roma get better, and even if he'd never heal completely, Jason knew Dick would be able to carry his own scars and move forward._

_After all, Jason had done it, and he'd never been able to reach the standard's Dick inadvertently placed._

* * *

><p><em>They've formed a pattern of sorts; he'd go to Dick's room at least five-times a-day to check on him, let the chatty man get his fill of people for the day, and start muscle rehabilitation only after he was reassured said man could take it. In-between Jason took care of the house; cleaning here and there, and went-out of it once a-day to search for more food after the first three-days of Dick's arrival.<em>

_He also found some clothes, courtesy of some dumb men who mistook him for a common-survivor; they would fit Dick well enough._

_Jason kept having trouble digesting the exposed back didn't hurt Dick anymore, however after three-weeks-and-a-half there wasn't much of a rebuttal from their brief rehabilitation sessions._

_Today, something felt off when he made his way back to the two-story house; the streets were deserted (a surplus that got him here in the first place), but there was an eerie silence that appeared enforced around it. _

_The vigilante discovered his problem half-way upstairs, cursing and taking the rest of the steps two-at-a-time. One of the few disadvantages of concrete-built houses was how well they could isolate noises floor-to-floor, and room-to-room. Great for sales-value and construction__—__not so great right now when he saw the open door of Dick's bedroom, nor the grunts coming from there._

_In five long strides he was in, readying his shot to his first target's bed-hair but stopping short-of pulling the trigger at the midnight locks._

'What the—' _How was Dick up already? His eyes had barely the time to ran-by the unconscious figure on the floor before he met Dick's left profile that zoomed fleetingly on him, and next thing he knew, he was gasping for breath after a well-placed elbow on his left-kidney._

"_Mother f__—__what the hell, Dick?!__"__ He wheezed, nursing his side; that had _hurt_—__how was that even possible? _

_Dick spun fully to him; clearly sorry about hitting him._

"_Sorry, Jason; thought our house-guest brought someone else to the sleepover." He said, reaching towards him to grasp his shoulder, but Jason batted his hand away; angry._

"_The hell?! You saw me!" He had seen Dick see him, no reason to mistake him for someone else! "If you're mad or something you could just let me know instead of hitting me!" _

"…_it wasn__'__t like that, Jason. I guess you just took me by surprise; I'm not mad at you or anything."_

_Well, _he_ was mad now, so Jason glared at the retreating acrobat that (sagely) opted on sitting-on his bed instead. _

"_Coulda fool me," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at the incident, "just__—__forget it.__"__ No matter how "honest" Dick's ideals were, when push came to shove, the Roma's instincts would always put the Gothamite to the other side of the line. Why would Jason think they'd be on friendlier terms even now was a poor-choice in judgment._

_Dick sighed by his side, now on his usual position on the bed resting on his stomach. _

"_Think he might be alone?"_

_Jason fumbled with the intruder; 50's, olive-skin, graying hairs on most of his dark-scalp, thin-complexion, practically on the brink of starvation and ragged clothes__…_

"_Probably," their trespasser was definitely alone; didn't seem capable of taking care of himself, much less someone else, "I'll take him out,"_

"…_just be careful; okay?__"_

"_Not my first rodeo Circus-boy, I've got this."_

"_He could use a can or two."_

_Jason twisted-around to stare at the back of Dick's head, incredulous at what he was hearing._

"_You're joking__—__the old-man tried to raid_ _us, and you want to give him a consolation prize?!" He couldn't believe it__—__first he hit him, and now this? The nerve!_

"_You told me we didn't have to worry about food; that we had plenty of it." Dick said without turning his head to stare at him instead of the window, and it was a good thing too, because Jason was seriously considering nuking him._

"_Doesn't mean we can give it away either."_

"_Then what's the point of this, Jason?" Dick replied with a certain undertone of aggression that made him take a step-back in confusion. In all the time they've spent together never had the aerialist lost his temper, and Jason had in-fact deserved it more than he cared to admit; why was Dick losing it now?_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_I said 'what's the point of this, Jason?', if you don't really care then why do you even bother?"_

"…"

"…_forget it. I__'__m sorry I hit you, you__'__re right; I'll just go back to sleep." He muttered, noticeably still upset, then again Jason didn't have time to dwell on those ugly words, so he scoffed and muttered under-his-breath, preferring to ignore the stiff-form that was obviously not sleeping, and drag the unconscious body out of their property._

_Lucky for Jason, realization dawned on him like a lightening had struck him, and now an epiphany of recollections when meticulous-avoidance and evasive-deflections had taken part of their daily-routines since Dick had woken-up, flared to life._

_Letting the intruder fall to the floor, Jason stepped to the other side of the room to stand directly in-front of his predecessor; this time his eyes didn't skirt-away from Dick's, and a little part of him died when he noticed too late._

"…_you__'__re blind__…__"_

_What scared him the most was how disappointed Dick looked; like he was ashamed for Jason's sake, instead of the other way around._

"_Not exactly; left side's dark, but I can still see very well from the right one. Better than nothing, I guess." Dick shrugged nonchalant, and God, that was _wrong.

"_You knew__—__of course you knew! How _long _have you known?!__—__Why the fuck didn't you tell me; why would you keep something like this?! It could be from a head-injury and you could already be alright__—__I__'__ve _asked _you point-blank if you were hurt anywhere else! If you had any pain anywhere else!"_

_Dick just looked at him with that same expression, creating a queasy feeling on the pit of his stomach that left him extremely uneasy. _

"_Because it's not a head-injury; it's not temporary, Jason." Dick stated alarmingly calm; he then moved himself to a sitting-position to better face him with remarkable stability. "Figured it didn't matter whether you knew it right away or not; there's nothing to do about it."_

"_You don't know__—__"_

"_Yes,_ _I _do_. Just the same way I know I've been dead far longer than what you're afraid to imply, and just the same way I know you can't see me__—_any _part of _me_—__without cursing under-your-breath or flinching at the sight.__"__ That shut him-up nicely; Jason was ashamed to know how transparent he__'__d been all-along. __"__It__'__s alright, Jason. None of this is your fault, and it isn't right to expect you to know how to deal with it."_

"_You're _not_ an '_it'_."_

"_Neither are you. And just because we share an otherworldly-experience doesn't mean you have to be all-knowing and ready for it. So take it easy," Dick smiled at him; a sad self-depreciating smile that cut through Jason in a way that wasn't supposed to be possible, "you won't hurt me."_

'No,' _he thought, somebody else had already beaten everyone to it._

* * *

><p><em>After the 'bitter revelation' their routine changed drastically. It only took a couple of days of dancing around-each-other (more like Jason doing the whole dancing) for Dick to finally vent about his cage and demonstrate him how much better he'd gotten physically: wanting to improve his rehabilitation sessions.<em>

_Jason had begrudgingly agreed to it for the single fact that it was the lesser of the two evils:_

_Dick had started making questions._

_Fortunately, the Roma knew when to push and when to back-off, so they settled on a new regimen yet again, only to have it torn-apart (again) barely a week later._

"_THE FUCK?!"_

_Jason had woken-up from a deep-slumber only to be yanked-back from the land of blessed sleep by the soul-wrenching-agonized gasps from the other room. He vaguely recognized the sound of something falling, followed-by gut-wrecking grunts that yearned to be screams but couldn't, and he was up; dashing towards Dick's bedroom with crazed-eyes._

_There, gasping for breath on the floor, with a combination of left-over seizures Dick grunted filled-with pain. Jason already had a shot to help the acrobat to unconsciousness, but when he made to grasp the other man the sounds of bones-breaking stopped him long-enough to lose his grip on the syringe when a foot _arched _it away. _

_The Gothamite was rapidly searching for it, mumbling words of encouragement for Dick to hang on. When he couldn't seem to find the stupid thing immediately he gave-up, preferring to grab Dick and help him through his seizures; all his recovery was gone now, Jason thought sadly, trying to remove the sheets tangled in the acrobat to get a better hold. _

_He was punched in the face and other places several times before he caught a small forearm. The episode had passed, and Dick was left trembling amidst the soaked covers. Jason heard the struggle Dick made, trying to gather more air than it could; the sheets were tainted red, and some gauze had fallen form the aerialist's back that contracted violently._

_Now that he had an opportunity to free the other from the tangled mess, he found where the Roma's head was and removed the textiles away. Before Jason could do anything else Dick's clouded-eyes found his, and Jason's knees gave-out against the cold-ceramic-floor._

"_Dick__…__?__"_

"…_w__—__wha-at__'__s happe__—__ning__…__?__"__ Dick questioned haggard with a voice Jason hadn't heard, touching his face and collapsing from exhaustion shortly-after in vague awareness; it seemed he couldn't pass-out from residual pain or perhaps disbelief._

"…_shit,"_

* * *

><p><em>Finding children's wardrobe had proven to be easier than the Gothamite had thought, however instead of feeling appeased with his successful hunt, Jason dreaded going back so-soon after leaving.<em>

_Dick was kid. Dick was a frickin'_ kid_._

'_What the hell happened__…__?' He honestly hadn't expected this out of all the things he got to worry about. Was Dick okay? Would it happen again?_

_Would he be able to go back to his proper age?_

_After the man__—_kid, _not man; _kid_—__had shown no more signs of going through another set of seizures, Jason had gathered-him to the bed again. He was surprised to find how light Dick was now in retrospect from weeks ago, and Dick seemed aware of it too._

_He had tried to get-up himself, and only when hours had gone-by unspoken in the early hours of the night, did Dick fall-asleep._

_Jason had waited a couple of more hours to make sure nothing else sprung-out-of-the-blue to go out for new supplies. _

_Dick needed clothes that would actually fit him, and once out of the house and inside another one to start his search did Jason lost it._

_He'd no idea what happened, why it happened, or what to do about it. Dick didn't know either__—__hell, from what he saw where those bastards hid him, Jason had a theory they've just managed to bring him back to life recently__—__and, surprise, he didn't know how, or why either._

_So his focus was finding something for the pint-size male to wear, because if nothing else, it gave Jason purpose and something to focus-on instead of the sounds of bones breaking and readjusting to new dimensions._

_In retrospect, the street-rat shouldn't have thought the task would be difficult; children were hard to come-by nowadays, so their things were often left untouched everywhere people went._

_He took some calming breaths when he got to their own house with enough wardrobes to last Dick a lifetime. Out of the two, Jason needed to keep his head cool; something like this would not be easy on Golden boy._

"_Hey, Jason!" Dick's chipper-voice split his newfound-confidence when he stepped-into the messy room._

"…_what." He honestly didn't know anymore; Dick only grinned at him mid-air, doing a small flip before touching the abused mattress and renewing his activity of jumping on the bed._

"_Whoa__—__are those for me? Sweet!" the Roma grinned, doing a cartwheel with sloppy feet and almost falling to his face when his previous boxers made him trip. Jason didn't had the time to worry over it, because innate-grace was Dick's middle name, and the kid was on his hands the next second; walking towards him with his feet on the air to keep the briefs mostly in place. "Thanks! Keep falling with this thing." He mentioned after taking some pants from Jason's arms. "Um, do you mind waiting outside? It's a little creepy how you keep staring."_

_Did he just implied__—_

"_You little__—__" Jason was cut mid-swear when Dick laughed airily at him, going as far as pointing a finger towards him in mocking gestures._

"_Your face! Hahahaha!"_

"_Oh, you think it's funny huh?" He asked smirking, the tension behind his shoulders dissipating a little._

"_Holy understatement-Batman!"_

"_Right, enough of that. Hopefully something will fit you__—__you're awfully short, Circus-boy. Maybe some girl clothes would be better for you." Not waiting for a retort Jason tossed the bag at the Golden Boy's chest, making him fall on his butt. "Holler when you're done, I'll need to redress your bandages and we'll need to have a long talk, capisci (1)? Good luck, Wonder Brat." Then he closed the door and went to his own room._

_Things wouldn't be easier when they ate after Dick was done changing, nor days after when Dick showed no signs of reverting back to his age; for the most part, the aerialist appeared to be fine__—__his strength and flexibility were back (obviously proportionate to his sudden shrinking), he remembered Jason and everything up-until he died (a conversation Jason had no desire to go through again)__—__asides from the strangeness of the whole thing (neither knew what happened), their routine went-back to what it was._

_The occasional episodes Dick had time-to-time though were the main reason Jason had decided against any involvement elsewhere._

_Unfortunately things were never that easy, and it all came with a visit from the remaining Zatara with news from the Replacement to unsettle his ground again._

_Because Dick would not leave his precious little-brother die like the man deserved._

_And because Jason couldn't deny Dick when he had started noticing the crack of the smile the Roma had created for his sake._

_-~End of Flashback~-_

* * *

><p>(1) "[…] understand?" Italian.<p>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's notes:<em>**

_To the Anon reviewer, your knowledge is dully-noted, and I can tell you there's a reason Luthor hasn't made his cameo yet. Thanks for the info._


	28. The Fears that remain Our Burden

_**Author's Notes: **__So much progress down below. And dialogue. Lots of it.~ _

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Foul language, mild-violence, Angst, lots of it and fluff, also lots of it._

_Monday September 1__st__, 2014 Words: 10,648._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXVIII.- The Fears that remain Our Burden._

_or_

_Chapter XXVIII.- Forget Me Not; the Consequences of our Actions._

_-~23:05hrs. Hidden facility inside the D'Angelo Sewage Treatment Plant._

"Bruce!" Stephanie screamed desperately by her right side, fumbling with her grip on her brother.

For her part, Cassandra could do nothing else but grunt while trying to keep the acrobat immobile too; it wasn't easy given that even as small as he was, Dick was a force to be reckoned with.

At the sound of bones popping out-of-their-sockets, Cass lost it.

"Damian!" She yelled, hoping the teen was nearby; Dick was twisting-frantically against her hold. Suddenly his elbow jammed the base of her throat making her almost loose her grasp. Steph was behind her, already getting-up after a fierce kick at her face, and Alfred was gone to get the others who were taking too long.

"Move!" Damian appeared at her side, holding the Roma's shoulders to take control of his small hands; Cassandra took advantage of the pause after doing what her brother said, and forced a small rag into the child's mouth—they've been trying to do it for almost five minutes.

"Where's Bruce?!" Steph growled on her side, attempting to quell the flying legs that kept twisting in odd angles with her weight. Cassandra did not waste sparing a backwards-glance, instead aiming to push Dick's back against the mattress and keep him still now that they had another pair of hands to help; her uniform felt wet and sticky, and she knew it wasn't sweat.

"What happened?" Damian asked between clenched-teeth completely disregarding the blonde's question. The next moment though, he grimaced at the ache that shot-through him when Dick head-butted him, making the teen nurse his bruised chin on instinct, before reaching to hold-him again immediately afterwards.

"We don't know." She answered, watching for any signal that indicated their father's arrival with heavy breaths. "He was fine—"

"—something had to trigger this attack!"

"We don't know what did it!" Steph yelled, defending her. "He was fine and then he was like this! Alfred went to get some meds—"

"Stephanie, go with Tim to stand watch." Her father suddenly materialized at her other side, prepping a syringe while Steph gave an uneasy look at her hold.

They were barely keeping hold of Dick as it was; Cass thought when another loose limb punched-through her ribcage.

"No one stays alone with that in the same room. _Go_." Her father growled, hissing at the sound of the acrobat resisting their touch, and dispatching of the syringe carelessly. He took her friend's place and the other was out of the room in a daze; running to keep guard with Tim over their captured foe.

"Keep him as still as you can," Alfred then said, grabbing another syringe when the first one had done nothing, "this will hurt him."

* * *

><p><em>-~23:17hrs. Upper East Side District, Gotham City.<em>

It was only because he'd already seen it once that Jason didn't panic like the first time, even so, his prior experience with Dick had _nothing_ on Donna.

"C'mon Donna—you can do it—" He encouraged her between clenched-teeth, struggling to get a grasp on the tiny-amazon who squirmed-out of the way. They hadn't walked half-way through their path when the Titan started to convulse, so what had Jason done?

He'd improvised.

"Hold—still—_Urgh_!" Jason swallowed a curse when Donna punched-his-lights-out with a well-aimed kick on his stomach. He tried to stand, but fell pathetically to his knees with a pained-groan instead. The girl had her strength back alright; there wasn't much he could do for her as he struggled to catch his breath.

He was only able to catch her blurry figure on the floor, squirming and kicking and screeching in agony against the sound of her bones readjusting to new dimensions.

Jason had to get-up and help her, but the vicious kick had probably lend him some bruised ribs or maybe some internal-damage far greater than he'd established first-hand, because he tumbled right-back to the floor, where his sight kept flickering in-and-out without his control.

The world felt heavy on him, and suddenly he was on the verge of moving again, so he pushed his way up-to his elbows and tried to get towards the lump of sheets that he was slowly regaining his focus-on.

"Donna…?" His voice felt raspy—wrong, so he cleared it some, reaching for her.

The bump stopped all-at-once. An eerily quiet replacing the horrible anguish from moments before that forced Jason quickly to his feet; something felt-off.

"Donna, are you okay?" Jason took a step closer to the Amazon—

—only to be intercepted with a piercing glare of blue from within the mass of sheets.

Alright, the street-rat was aware a pissed-off Amazon wasn't in anybody's best interest; it was understandable she might be angry after that, but surely she wouldn't be angry at him for it.

"Who are you?" Donna demanded, and Jason's heart constricted at the revelation.

'_Shit. No good, no good!__' _

"Umm, real funny, Donna." Jason cleared his throat calming his tense body language. If the girl really knew nothing of him he was better-off not upsetting her; surely she would hear him out.

She squinted her eyes, as if she was having trouble processing his words.

"I will not repeat myself further; tell me who you are and how do you know my name." Donna said, standing-up on steady-legs with the clothes sliding from her frame.

Jason took a good look at her, deeming her to be in her early to mid-teens. She appeared to be without discomfort or residual pain from the previous attack, but for all he knew it could be her Amazon bravado—Dick, for one, had taken serious ramifications from his age reversal.

It also brought his brother's status to question.

"Name's Jason Todd, I've close-ties with your boy Dick Grayson," he spoke louder and slower, predictably at Golden Boy's mention she changed her demeanor to shock; that was good—she remembered Dick, "_Bat_-related ties." Jason specified, keeping the tone the same; grateful she dropped her fighting stance and stood on her full-height. Now that she deemed him safe enough to be considered somewhat of an ally, she glanced worriedly around them, without a doubt completely confused at their uncanny surroundings. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Donna furrowed her brow, looking straight at him with uncertain blues. She gripped firmly the dirty-textiles giving her some sort of modesty, and Jason added clothes on his list of things to do.

"...how come Dick's never mentioned you before?" She asked frowning, her nose twitching as she spared-herself a glance and peeked underneath the sheets. "Why on Hera do I _smell_ like this?" Donna muttered under her breath looking at him again with receding audacity. One of her hands tried to get her hair away from her face and she flinched as if burned. Her eyes went big-like-saucers and she touched with uncertain fingers the left side of her face in growing-panic.

Jason saw a brief flash of red-torn flesh and swallowed a curse.

"Donna, keep breathing; calm down," he coaxed trying to be comforting with his voice raised. No wonder she had issues hearing him the first time around. "You're safe-"

"'_Safe_'?" She gritted her teeth, hiding her mutilated cartilage with her left hand, "I'm missing an _ear—I do not know you! What happened to me?! Why_ are both here-_where _is _here_?!"

"Hey, you need to relax, Wonder Girl," Jason kept coaxing, glad his name of choice helped in calming said girl, it was best to deviate her line-of-thinking regarding her ear: focus her on familiar territory, "Boy Wonder and I share a long and complicated history. We're in Gotham City," by her widening eyes he concluded she'd yet to be there, "Dick left us to catch-up with him on the Cave," again, Donna visibly relaxed; _'Good,' _he thought alleviated, "Let's get you something to wear while you tell me the last thing you remember, okay?"

Donna watched him cautiously for a good minute, her hectic demeanor slowly receding even while she held her trembling hand against her missing organ. Clearly trying to forget it she visibly debated whether she could trust him or not. Jason could only hope she did; he did not want to subdue the distressed teen.

"...what's his best friend's name?" She blurted with renowned confidence.

Jason didn't blink.

"Zitka at Hayley's; then there's Roy pain-in-the-ass-Harper, Wally annoying-speedster-West, odd-ended-Garth, and you, Donna ass-kicking-Troy."

Donna stood silent for a whole-good minute while he waited patiently.

"Is it within you character to be so crude?" frankly the adjectives had presented-themselves on their own volition, "... okay, you've made your case: I'll believe your word, but be warned—I will not hesitate to defeat you if your claims are false."

The older man nodded, trying to bite-back his snarky-tongue.

"Come on, the sooner we get this done, the better. Follow my lead and _do_ _not _under any circumstances, do anything I don't tell you to."

The teen scowled at him; her shaking less evident when she levitated towards him.

"What's happening outside?"

"War."

* * *

><p><em>-~23:57hrs. Hidden facility inside the D'Angelo Sewage Treatment Plant.<em>

Batman shook his head at the opening of the door, hoping Alfred would give him more time to get through his son.

His son who had his back turned-at-him and gripped the dry-towels Damian had brought with labored-breaths after his strange experience had concluded.

Dick had taken one look at his youngest and tripped on his feet when his attempt at a back-flip had failed him.

_"Batman?" _He'd rasped, taking precautions unsteady-steps away from his daughter and son. His breathing had been erratic and he'd been unable to stand on his feet, tumbling towards the ground. Unexpectedly, when Damian had went to him to help him, Dick had moved away; his eye darting from Damian to Cassandra in wariness.

His youngest had not taken the action lightly, and renewed his attempt with concealed-hurt.

_"Who are you?" _Dick had asked cleaning his brow of heavy perspiration with narrowed-eyes.

Batman resisted the urge to rub his temples at the memory. He'd sent Cassandra on guard-duty after Damian had briskly-retreated on his own, stating that no one was to interrupt but Alfred. At the Butler's name Dick had relaxed significantly. However, he'd yet to let the Englishman enter.

He was roughly 13 years-old or so, with no apparent recollection of his siblings or status quo: a troubling scenario. When they were reunited Dick had mentioned being his adult-self beforehand, having something changed to leave him in his previous state, however there was now the troublesome matter of his failed recollections. If he were to see an aged-Alfred without proper handling what would happen? He certainly wasn't going to risk-it.

So Batman was waiting, giving the aerialist time to adjust to his surroundings until he felt confident-enough to question the situation.

If only he could be certain of providing all the answers.

"I-" Dick started after almost 20 minutes in muteness. Bruce stood unyielding; waiting for the teen to give word to his thoughts. "I can't _see_." Dick admitted with frustration lacing his voice, "I can't see _anything _on my left," Batman tightened his jaw at the helpless plead of an explanation; he didn't have one so kept silent, "why aren't we in the Cave, Bruce?" Dick turned towards him, a frown on his slightly older features that turned sour after watching him. "…what year is it? Did a patrol-went wrong, or are we looking at a twisted time-travel experience? Please tell me, Bruce."

"Dick," He attempted, but was unable to utter more than his son's name.

"Fine." Dick's short-cut answer left him wary, knowing he did not longer wished to speak of the subject, "The ones with you—the guy and the girl: who are they?"

"…allies." The Wayne Patriarch said with a thoughtful quietness forming in-between both parties. He wasn't sure how much he would be able to push Dick; the teen already had an angry-scowl, and he feared his child's erupting temper that fueled their heated-discussions years ago. "You remember Alfred, and myself." He unnecessary added, hoping to redirect the Roma's train-of-thought. "What's your most recent memory?"

Dick eyed-him meticulously, stretching the heavy-tension in the limited space they had placed him soon after his arrival.

"Not another time-line then; it's just me who's the anomaly." Dick took a deep-breath, chancing another glance at him, but Bruce didn't betray his thoughts: his son had always been brilliant thus could have as much time as felt necessary to give him the answer he required while he made his own deductions. Bruce had expected no less.

"…we were at Roy's; asked our help for the weekend." He finally replied, and Bruce grunted in thought; Teen Titans' days it was. He should have expected it; Dick had known the first Generation of Superhero-sidekicks by his estimated age (and for quite some time). "They looked sad."

Batman provided a questioning glance towards his son who gave an overly exasperated-sigh in return.

"The 'allies'; they looked sad. I bet it's got to do with why you won't let Alfred into the room."

Sharp like always.

"They understand enough to not dwell on it." Bruce told him, if only because he partially hoped it was the case: while Dick had always been an approachable-type of person, he kept his amicability to proper standards when it came to strangers-something his other children were evidently resenting.

"I answered yours; it's your turn to answer mine. What year is it, Bruce?"

"2017. We're two weeks-away from 2018." It wouldn't do them any good to avoid the subject, the Batman had decided; exclusively because Dick wasn't like before, regardless of his added-years.

The boy's eyes widened with a new-light shining in it: the light of accepting something awful was happening.

* * *

><p><em>-~00:17hrs. Upper East Side District, Gotham City.<em>

"So you're saying it's been like this for years?" Donna ushered next to him, already clad-in some ridiculous green-dress with a smiley face on her chest. Jason had insisted she wore something less conspicuous but the girl hadn't heard him-or had pretended she didn't to his chagrin.

He felt far too-old for this.

"Yes." Jason had his reservations towards what he could and couldn't share in order to keep the girl grounded. "Now stop talking, we'll get spotted."

Donna huffed, narrowing her pretty-eyes at him while following him around.

"So you keep saying, even so the streets remain deserted and I've yet to see the Mansion grounds."

Jason rolled his eyes, grateful his mask, and his helmet had him covered; teens just weren't worth the effort. He briefly wondered if this was the same Donna he'd always known and not some annoying doppelgänger who mysteriously took her place.

"That's because we're not going there, now _hush_."

For some reason his request was granted, and though he felt the drilling-gaze of the amazon behind him, Jason thanked the girl for bearing with him. He hadn't disclosed much to her, only the very basics that they've established when he was trying to sooth her, but she was insistent on finding Dick first, and foremost, so he guessed that was her reason behind cooperating with his less-than-ideal instructions.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks, and he followed her line of vision to their right, where a group of thugs were cajoling-around the streets in a giddy-style. He tugged her sweater's sleeve to motion them behind a bus-stop so they could wait until the trio had gone away.

Donna did as told unable to hide her irritation towards him (sadly Jason was getting used to it), and together, they sank to their knees, straining their ears (no offense or anything) to be mindful of their company. On closer inspection the oblivious-bystanders seemed drunk, all too-merry on their steps and singing an awful tune.

Nameless-goons had been like this since Superman's capture: Jason didn't know whether to feel satisfied at their help (and hate) against the over-grown Kryptonian, or disgusted to see the vermin of Gotham freely-running the streets instead of your every-day civilians.

"Come," he nudged Donna, not wanting the teen to catch the colorful-lyrics of their tune, making their path to where the others were hiding; during their travel he sometimes found the Amazon leading the way to the point where he had to take some steps-back to test his theory.

Abruptly Donna's feet slipped-on something, and she made to grab her head in-between her hands; Jason supported her arms, his mind concocting a reasonable explanation at this familiar behavior that led the teen towards their destination and her abrupt upcoming-pain.

Furrowing his brows, he wished he could test-it on Dick to disprove his theory and save both the misery that came with it.

What if the closer they were to each-other, the harder the pain they had to withstand?

* * *

><p><em>-~00:51hrs<em>. _Hidden facility inside the D'Angelo Sewage Treatment Plant._

"So you're saying that—_again—_we won't be able to see him." Reyes chastised him in a most annoying fashion during their training.

Damian scowled at the offended tone and the accusing eyes of all-three females in his care. There wasn't much he could do, in any case; his brother would be unable to provide them any explanation of sorts, much less remember them.

"He is with his family in a safe location—"

"Bull. You said that last time, and look howMilagrofoundhim." West interrupted him with tension overriding her lithe-body. Damian summarized they could use her loss of temper to improve her chances at separating her molecules. "Why won't you just let us see him?"

"Our priority is to assist in ending the War; in order to provide our-side every advantage we can, finding the Lamp is our next course of action-not worrying over a child who decided to go-out to the streets on his volition when he was procured safe accommodations before-hand." He snapped at them, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to forgo his initial resentment that fueled his argument. "Cease your complaining. There is still the matter of the Amazon Queen to be dealt with, as well as your continued training; you will not coddle him any longer." Then in a rare moment of empathy at their despondent faces he took-off his domino mask and kept a steady-gaze over them. "There are some that do not wish to be protected, and our duty relies on those who seek our protection, not otherwise."

"…sorry, you're right, it's just-… there are hardly children in the first place and he's so young…" Reyes replied, to which he grunted in affirmation, hoping to close the subject and start gathering Intel on the elusive Queen; she hadn't been located as of yet, and it was starting to become troublesome.

No doubt she would find the Kryptonian in due time.

"Keep doing your drills, I will return shortly." He dismissed them, turning on his heel and making his way towards the Computer to attempt another search. His father hadn't given-out any updates.

Whilst his brother required attention to his growing-list of ailments, Damian hadn't composed his arguments under false pretenses.

"So you're Bruce's son." A voice chimed above him and Damian swirled his head at the ceiling fast-enough to get whiplash. A grown-version of his brother was stuck to the cave's natural ceiling, looking for all it's worth, like it was anything but ordinary to be in that position.

"-Tt-," he muttered under his breath, resuming his pace to get to the other room and away from a brother that had no recollection of him yet seemed to be better-off in spite of it.

"I think I can see the family resemblance now," the boy in his early-teens quipped, dropping to the ground and following his steps with arms behind his head, "are you always so fatalist or is it just around people younger than you? Don't get me wrong, your last-line was wicked-wise, even if it was fueled by resentment. I don't know, gave that vibe. Anyways, I'm asking 'cause that's an unfair perception, people might surprise you and you always have something to learn even when playing the teach—"

"Is there a reason behind your endless quarrel, or have you nothing else to do?"

"Of course there is. You're just too moody to get it." Grayson shrugged, and the turtleneck sweatshirt suddenly gave-way to how small he was, even when he was supposed to be older. "Whatcha' doin' now?"

Damian grunted, massaging the bridge of his nose once he reached his destination to get rid of his conflicting thoughts.

"It's none of your concern. Go back to your quarters; I'm certain Father did not give you any indication to flounder-outside with no specific path." He really wished Grayson would listen and leave him be.

Damian had work to do.

"Bruce's not here," he said as if that was explanation enough to disobey his Father, "and I'm not 'floundering outside with no specific path': I wanted to talk to you."

That took the Son of Batman by surprise.

"Hey, you _do_ know other expressions asides from frowning!" The acrobat grinned at him, crossing his arms over his tiny chest.

"Nonsense, I have no time to waste on you; return to your quarters at once."

"If Bruce can't make me stay there, what makes you think you will?" Grayson batted him away with that infuriating logic of his. "You don't need to tell me what you're doing-you clearly need a 101 on how to be a good Team Member though, so I could give you a Crash Course 'bout it," he kept and grinned so full-of-mischief that it stopped Damian's protesting in-his-tracks, "_but, _you'll help me with something in-return."

He arched an eyebrow, and felt increasingly aware of his naked-eyes open to the full-scrutiny of his brother.

"A favor-for-a-favor." He quoted seemingly unimpressed, though he was curious on what he could offer to someone who didn't have any recollection of his person.

"Figures you're the sorta-guy who might be interested." Grayson continued.

"And what makes you think I will be willing to assist you? You're blatantly disobeying direct orders to remain in-place."

Grayson scoffed inelegantly, openly dismissing his argument and Damian cursed his Father for it.

"You're not fooling anyone buddy, but I'll make it simple for you: either you help me, or I'll do it myself."

Damian glared at the smaller man, irked at the presumptuous-attitude.

"Then there's hardly any difference in the matter if you claim your ability to do so without my assistance." The silent-message that he would not permit it was noted by the acrobat.

_"Wrong:_ the difference is that you won't be left unaware-of things instead of me taking what I want without any form of supervision." Then to Damian's growing aggravation, Grayson had the nerve to shrug-off his silent threat. "I take it pretty much all of you are in the twilight-zone with anything concerning me."

"What are you saying?" He demanded with a glare that he hadn't bestowed upon Grayson since he first met the man.

"That maybe you won't miss a bulb of light when you've been used-to working blind this whole time." Grayson replied unconcernedly; and the casual-nature in which he discussed his disability struck a chord within-him. "Or maybe you'll realize it's better to see part of the picture instead of stumbling-around in the darkness if you just stop being an uptight-jerk about it."

Damian spluttered in astonishment; had Grayson always been so callous? Never once had he seen him act like this.

'_He truly does not remember me… no matter.' _Regardless of such nature, Damian was presented with a new dilemma: should he decline Grayson's quest and return the boy to his room to appease his Father he would truly remain-blind (as unsympathetically put by his sibling) to any dubious-plan his challenged-brother had in mind, but should he offer Grayson his assistance he would be able to keep a vigilant-eye on the teen's uncertain activities.

In any case it might be better to appease his Father than deal with another set of unpredictable situations stirred by the aerialist. Already Damian knew that despite his light-treat on the subject, the teen would without-a-doubt find a way to get what he wanted and move forwards without anyone being the wiser in due-time.

"Very well," he acquiesced, barely keeping his eyes from rolling at the shorter-male's grin, "what is it you want?"

"My own computer with your files; all of them."

Damian succumbed to his urge and massaged the bridge of his nose in extreme-vexation at the upcoming aggravations.

* * *

><p>By the time Red Hood made it to the Cave he decided to take a slight-detour to Superman's holding-cells before reaching Dick.<p>

He'd successfully convinced Donna to stay-put in Selina's turf with the promise of reaching Dick faster if she remained hidden.

"_I want to talk with him." _She'd said, and Jason easily agreed-to her terms, leaving her with is mic. so she could speak with his brother once he found him.

The girl had been easy to placate once her headaches started and the Vigilante deviated their route just-so from their destination to see the migraines dissipate into nothing. The closer the range the stronger they became, and Jason bet his life that if the two Titans were to be reunited their usual disorders would follow; he had not wanted to test a despairing Amazon right now.

A few strides and turns soon got him to the humongous form of the only man he hated more than the Joker.

Yeah, now _that's_ an achievement.

The aforementioned Man of Steel was still sweating-his-ass-off, a direct-result of Crane's formula and the green shards adjoining his prison. He slurred indistinctly under-his-delusions and fidgeted in his growing-fever; turmoil-nightmares pulsating from his body.

He had no sympathy. Even now, Jason felt this was not punishment enough for the prestigious alien that took everything from everyone; it wasn't just about Dick-this monster took the World's opportunity for a better fight against its oppressors and then became one. He had no redemption.

"You came back." Cass's voice brought him out-of-his-reverie and he offered his sister a nod in unnecessary confirmation. "Dick won't remember us." She said, and Jason bit-back a curse; he'd figured as much. "But you already knew."

'_Crap.' _This was not good.

"He's off with Damian; you can find him on the third floor." The only daughter of the Bat muttered, and Jason nodded his thanks, taking his discharge in-stride to leave the guarding of their enemy to their most capable warrior.

He for once, would not question how she knew more than what appearances said.

* * *

><p>"You're speaking nonsense, Grayson." The taller boy scoffed at him, and Dick rolled his eyes, amazed at the guy's poor social skills.<p>

"I'm telling you the truth, not my fault you can't take what you dish." After he'd secured the help from Bruce's son Dick had learned the guy couldn't get how rude he was with his teammates; the guy seemed to think it was harmless-banter.

The whole idea that Damian was supposed to be his sibling of sorts was stilted at best (he was only Bruce's ward after all) though he did find some comfort in the teen treating him with far more disinterest than Bruce or Alfred did. He guessed it had something to do with their age-gap, or lack-thereof.

Damian, for all his short-comings was easier to deal-with, and far more adjustable to his needs than anyone else; he doubted the girl-in-purple, the guy-in-red or even the silent-one-in-blacks would be more amending to his demands.

His shinny-new gauntlet (so to speak, it was actually quite old and grimy) hidden in his sleeve proved the fact. Files were encrypted—piece of cake—and he'd wasted no time to create his own set with parameters easy to recall, attaching Batman's general family-tree lesson to it. He also added some cliff notes to cheat a little.

It had the feeling of a Diary; Dick got a laugh at the idea.

His gait was stopped when he sensed someone-else approaching them, and Damian copied his actions, aware of the presence himself.

"Friend?"

Damian clicked-his-tongue and Dick shook his head at the melodramatic teen; he should've figured.

"Hardly."

"Now I'm hurt, Babybird; I thought we were closer than that." A tall-man with a ridiculous helmet made his way towards them; Dick summarized from Damian's annoyed-bearing he was supposed to know this new guy.

"You were clearly mistaken, as per usual."

The man shrugged his shoulders, and the movement allowed Dick's eye to spot the multiple-firearms he carried. Things had certainly changed if none-batted an eye at the heavy-implication: only Alfred had firepower at his disposal.

The guy gave him an once-over, crossing his arms over his huge-chest; he briefly wondered if he would grow as much when he regained his years-taken.

"I'm not sure I want to know. What's with the look, Dickiebird? Tired of babysitting?"

Dick raised his brow, honestly surprised by this man's choice-of-words. They must've been close for such a strange nickname; he was pondering if it was better than his friends' awful stack of them.

"Cease your yapping, Todd, there's new developments which you're unaware of." Damian clipped in an off-put manner at his side. Dick sensed an eccentric-hostility brew among the two males, and his interest was hooked with why. If he didn't know any better—which he didn't— he'd wager they both had hidden-agendas between themselves that collided with the ones that they kept from each-other.

"Then maybe you could make me aware of them instead of being a prissy-prince about it." 'Todd' said annoyed (must be a last name, following Damian's peculiarity in keeping things formal), his head tilted towards him again (it would help if he took-off the silly bucket, but he guessed that was partially the reason he wore-it). "How come you're so quiet Golden Boy? Not—"

"_Todd_." Damian interrupted the man, sending him a silent-message with his eyes that made Dick huff in annoyance; he hated when people talked about you like you weren't in the same room.

Bruce and the other big-heroes usually did the same to his friends and him.

"I'm apparently stuck-in memories of my age with people who like to keep things in the dark. Luckily for everyone I'm one step-ahead of their games with Batman's awesome-shadow-training _and _Monocular-Blindness to help me play just as they like it." He broke the stare sandwiched between them to test the waters with this new person. He easily shrugged-off the flinch on Damian, since he gained another new-piece to the puzzle:

Todd knew.

"Care to explain _this_?" He gestured towards him ('_Rude'_) and made a show of demanding an explanation to the other one, but Dick got what he needed—his reaction was delayed; if he hadn't been searching for it, he wouldn't know, but he'd been looking.

Damian shook his head in more than just postponing a conversation: another reassurance that they really had no clue what happened to him.

It'd be awesome if he had an hour or two to go through all their files on his something-borrowed.

"Yeah, good luck with that. Hey, what's your name? 'Todd' sounds more like a last name and we're probably under first-name basis."

The guy kept silent for a long time; there was much more than shock-Todd was planning something.

"Jason, Jason Todd." Jason introduced himself, taking-off his helmet in the process.

Dick stared for all of two-seconds to point-out a finger in the man's direction.

"Why are you wearing a mask under your helmet? Doesn't it _defeat_ the whole purpose of the helmet?"

Jason cracked a smile, and Dick found it was the first real expression he'd been given by anyone so far.

"Funny thing you should ask: had it for once dramatic purposes and then just got used to it." Then the guy gave him a critical-once over. "How old are you supposed to be again?"

Dick smirked at the underlying-taunting.

"Thirteen-ish; birthday's months away."

Damian nodded as if he'd known all-along.

"So it's not news-you've always been a squirt. Imagine that."

"At least vents are not an issue; seriously can you even do any covert-work? Your steps are so heavy it's amazing the floor hasn't given-into your flat-footing." When Jason smirked good-naturally Dick nodded in approval. Now this guy had some prospect.

At Damian's cough both fixed the teen the requested-attention.

"If you're looking for Father he's currently indisposed," Damian told Jason, "however, I would like to have a word with you once you've attended your questioning business."

If there was a good-chance as-any this was it.

"You guys can chalk-it-up. I need to go and use the bathroom anyway. Will be back in a few." He said, starting to make his way to where he thought there was a bathroom.

"I'll escort you, Grayson. Todd can wait and you've no idea where the restroom is."

"Ah, no thanks. It's cool, I'll find it. 'Sides, those three will be looking for you." He shrugged, trying to appear squeamish at the idea of a companion.

"Ridiculous—"

"Hey, kid, let Dick find his way, we'll regroup in five. Where's Cass anyways?" Jason intervened subtly gesturing at the awkward-tug Dick was giving at the turtleneck.

"It's getting a little-sticky," he pulled again at the hem, wincing slightly when it brushed against his skin—just for show, "won't take more than five to fix it."

"Of course. Todd, Cain is below." Damian rapidly ushered, trying to conceal his discomfort—another piece to add to his growing investigation—following the sound of girlish-echoes they had been heading towards in the first place. "I'll arrive shortly, if there is anything you might require, Pennyworth can assist you."

"Thanks, will be sure to let him know." Then all three parted their ways-or so it would seem. Once he was sure Damian had went to check on his team, he followed Jason's path to find the man waiting.

Now here was something interesting.

"You sure you don't remember anything?"

Dick shook his head, letting the older man study-him with a meticulous gaze.

"Don't need to when you're so transparent about hiding something." When Jason's gaze lingered, Dick propped himself on a boulder closer to him. "You got me alone, now what do ya want to tell me?"

"…aren't you curious who I am? Saw you checking my guns—no pun intended."

"Well, you can't be just anyone; Alfie's the only one who can wield them. And we obviously have some history between us. Maybe not much bad-blood involved. Question is, why are you hiding it from them?" Bruce had probably mentioned him if he was in the Cave, so the man had to be on his cliff notes; but there was no recollection on the tip-of-his-tongue.

Jason's smirk-widened, showing him a tiny-mic and then tossing-it to him with an easy-flick of his wrist.

"Not 'why': '_who'_." Dick caught the piece, eyeing it suspiciously to put-it on his ear, completely aware of Jason's piercing stare on him.

"Hello?" He chanced, feeling a little-dumb at his choice of word when a familiar-gasp followed his question.

"_Dick! It really is you!" _Donna's ecstatic voice surprised him and he couldn't stop the astonished look he gave Jason. _"I thought that man might've been lying when he said you knew him. Are you alright? What's going on?"_

The Roma took a sturdy-breath, never once removing his eye from the other who nodded in-comprehension to his inquisitive watch.

Nobody could know. Why? He needed to get his stuff; it was ridiculous he hadn't prepared himself for this eventuality if Donna was involved.

"It's okay D'," he amended, thankful Donna took his pause-in-stride, "he wasn't lying, we're at a Cave-not _the _Cave, but the Boss is here. Around. Are you alright?"

"_Yes, despite such bizarre circumstances. He told me to stay-hidden," _Donna said, and he grinned at the reproach behind her voice, _"can we really trust him? He says there's a War going on, and I'm concerned about other things just the same."_

"We'll have to. You good for now?" He hoped Donna understood his implication.

"_I can fight, and he left me some supplies; there's also more in a backpack that I was apparently carrying." _Bingo.

"Check-it, there might be something of use. I'll get in touch as soon as I can, until then stay-put, okay?"

"_You got it Fearless Leader-just be careful; I'm not there to haul you out of trouble."_

"Will do, take care D'." At Donna's final good-bye he sent the older man a glare before crossing his arms.

"I need my backpack."

* * *

><p>"Grayson, that was all you carried when we came here." The teenager insisted with annoyance spiking his words.<p>

Too bad Dick didn't care; he was sure there had to be something there. There just had to.

"You can go if you don't want to be here," he threw over his shoulder inspecting another can of peaches carefully. Maybe he wrote on the labels? He also wanted to take another look at his cliff notes; names kept getting vague.

"Leave him be Junior, no harm done if he stays put." Tall-guy added, and Dick tossed the can away, looking at another one.

"It's already late; you need to rest if we have any intention of solving whatever caused this."

"Not tired."

"Regardless-"

"You know, I'm starting to think you really don't want anyone else to know I'm here, a guy has to wonder." He interrupted the older teenager, hoping to get something out-of-it. Maybe it wasn't in the cans, he would need to throw them away when traveling with Donna (he was sure they've been traveling before something got them separated; why else was she the only one who had a bag like him). Maybe something that he wouldn't throw away?

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"Yeah, _he's_ the only one being ridiculous."

Dick's aggravation started to push his limits at the two oafs who couldn't take their spat outside. Weren't they both glad he was staying-put in his "room" in the first place? Their bickering was distracting.

"Shut it, Todd."

"What's got your jammers in a twist, Precious? Way I see it, just let Bluebird try to make sense of this; not like we have much in our end."

'_Twist… that's it!' _with a new theory he took the empty-backpack and twisted-it inside-out, trying to search for any keywords beneath the stain on the fabric.

"_Todd._"

"Spare us your 'indignation'; you know he knows we don't know squat."

He did, Dick thought, eye-greedily reading the words hidden-in his native-tongue with a sharpie in utmost-trance. There was just enough for him to know the gist-of-things; of plans he made that concerned him, Donna and the others. Of fears he had of losing-himself to his years, and of truces and teams made with practically everyone to make a web so complicated Dick was flabbergasted it hadn't drove him mad.

There was so much he still needed to figure out—no doubt Donna's backpack had a set of contingency instructions too, and Dick needed to read them. Everything was so convoluted that by the fourth-time he went through it he was still having troubles processing his own plans.

Just who was he? There were more readings inside the bag's smaller pouches, so he went over those too, and a new-light shone under his current acquaintances that kept lightly-discussing trivial things:

These two were his brothers. He vaguely recalled Bruce explaining something along the subject. His eyes narrowed in contemplation, trying to get-used to the idea of actually having a family.

His notes also said that were anything to happen, he should go to Selina, Cass, and Jason (probably in that order). It wasn't strange at all to find Batman wasn't included, it was simply a given; somehow he would always go to Bruce first. Dick summarized Cass was the woman-in-black, so he'd have to seek-her out later. Jason was third on the list and the only one he'd actually met, plus he'd already proved he was reliable.

A quick look at his computer told him that yes; Jason was the one discussing with Damian. He needed to update his cliff notes now.

The aerialist had some scribbles about Damian and someone else named Tim too, though not as much.

"_Todd!_"

"What?" Jason asked before following Damian's nod gesturing him; the two young men holding their tongues when they realized he'd been staring at them with contemplation oozing from his every-pore.

"Is something the matter, Grayson?" Damian asked him in tentative-tones.

That was quite the loaded question, Dick considered, taking into account he'd been playing chess unfairly.

Well, time for a change in strategy; hopefully he could forgive himself for it when he regained his senses.

"They're Wally and Roy's kids, aren't they?" At their muted-expressions he reasserted his suspicions, so he stood-up with reinforced-commitment. "I want to meet them."

"No." "No."

Dick awarded them a skeptical look.

"They might be able to help. It's worth a shot."

"You've maintained yourself anonymous under their eyes; it would be foolish to thwart your cover."

"Yeah, those four aren't ready for a bomb of this magnitude."

"Why not?" He asked genuinely confused. If they were here, and in-costume they had to be adept at their line of work; would people ever take their young seriously? It was a douche-move from Damian.

Plus he was under his right to change his strategies.

"The last time they saw you, you weren't legally dead. I take it nobody has told you, you were murdered seven years ago; you'll give 'em a heart-attack." Jason said, sending an accusing look at a brooding-Damian who evaded his eyes.

They certainly hadn't, but he'd been cautious enough to write it with the rest of his notes.

"Did I give _you_ a heart-attack? You know, whenever or however I came back?" Then he waved his hands, trying to dissipate the tension to get back to his initial purpose. "Thanks for the heads-up; it'd woulda been awkward if the last person to know about my death was me when presenting myself to my, um, nephews-wow, that sounds so weird." He shivered a little, unaccustomed to the idea; in his head he was still thirteen, far too-young to have nieces and nephews when his friends were fourteen themselves.

"You've just woken, we've yet to make sure if this state is permanent. Just a few hours ago you were fine."

"Okay, so who's to say it's not going to change? There are more things we oughta know if I'm going to stay like this. And with them living in the same space I thought we just might as well avoid the whole elephant-in-the-room scenario. Man, I miss Zitka." He muttered the last part under-his-breath, stopping himself from asking about his friend to avoid one-too-many blows below-the-belt.

Whatever, the point was that Dick really thought he was being reasonable, after all, didn't Bruce said he would help him in any way he could? He'd promised to tell him everything once he got some shut-eye. Hadn't Damian also made an arrangement with him under the same basis? And Jason wasn't behind, him being the only one who knew about Donna.

When both men remained unyielding Dick glared.

"I was hoping we could avoid this, really, but you guys leave me no choice." He said to the other two who eyed-him cautiously when he feigned a shrug and started heading towards the door. "I'm sure B. will have a whole-lot of _unlimited_ input about your secret agendas if there's nothing else we can do to move forward with what we have."

Bulls-eye. No sooner than he said it, did his alleged-siblings cracked under the pressure, turning inquisitive glances at one-another.

"How would you even know—?" Dick's glare shut Jason-up, and underneath his mask, he was sure the older man was glaring at his implication.

He _would_ reveal Donna if it was necessary. He hadn't quelled the persistent-need to tag her along.

When the man accepted his defeat Dick passed the glare at the younger one, who returned the favor.

"You agreed to help me." The Roma reminded him.

"Blackmail was _not_ under our terms." Damian alleged, but then clicked-his tongue because it kinda got them their terms in the first-place.

"Yeah, well, I died and nobody had the courtesy to tell me about it until push-came-to-shove." Then he straightened his back, craning his neck to massage the base of his skull on-purpose. "Just like nobody has explained why I am the way I am." The how he came-back from the dead was implied.

"What do you expect to find? Those four know nothing that could help you; they're untrained-undisciplined juveniles who came to our side mere months-ago."

"One or two of them are Wally's kids right?" He debated-reasonably, trying to search the back of his mind for the information; these two had to listen to reason if they've been working with Batman. It was a job prerequisite.

"Yeah,…what are you trying to say?" Jason afforded him a critical-look, intrigued by his change of method.

"Speed-force."

Damian's eyes enlarged in realization and Jason's hands dropped to his sides once his request made sense.

"We need to tell Father."

* * *

><p>After fifteen-minutes of patiently waiting a knock came to his door, followed-by Batman's large-self with a group of young-adults trailing behind him.<p>

They stood with the weight of the world on their shoulders, when sadly they seemed far too-young.

"Jason and Damian told me what you want to do." Batman said; a sentence he voiced with almost a level of trepidation.

He shrugged. That's why he'd been waiting. Dick had made good use of the time to add his scribbles to his computer.

"Wally talked about his uncle teaching him the uses of the Speed-Force and how he had to avoid going at full-speed, less he managed to change the entire time-line." A motion of his hand. "We joked about the possibility of him becoming an old-man instead and the multiple uses of a pimp-cane, but who says it couldn't work."

A pensive silence among them while Dick scrutinized the other three better.

The girl-in-blacks who he assumed was 'Cass' was already nodding at his theory, which made her the most-sensible out of the whole-lot.

This was supposed to be his only sister.

"We have anything about it?" Jason asked Batman, who took his sweet time to devote a careful-nod at the inquiry.

"We do?" The girl-in-purple asked surprised, "Then what's stopping us? So far we haven't had any idea of where to start—this is a great first lead." She seemed ambitious and vivacious, with a spark of mischief that Dick could respect.

"Iris doesn't have that level of control on her powers." The other guy-in-reds said (curious how they liked Red so much; did they take the trend from his colors?).

'"_Iris"; just like Wally's aunt.' _It made sense, Wally had loved his Aunt and Uncle more than his own parents who did nothing but abuse his kind-hearted friend. He wondered what kind of parent he was, what his kids thought about him; Dick bet he'd spoil his kids rotten and would never lack of love to give.

"Barry mentioned something along those lines; information about his powers must be under his file." Batman continued, now staring back towards him.

"I can start a search on it." The same guy gave him a precarious once-over. "If not I'll search on the file next to it."

Dick avoided his gaze, staring at the ground.

So that was probably 'Tim', another 'brother' that for once, didn't lack manners if his light-treading of the subject said something. His blue-eyes were also a dead-giveaway of someone who cared greatly for him but was afraid to show it, less he might scare him-off.

"You mean Wally's file; you can say it, I guess if we can't count on his daughter knowing he's either dead or missing for a long-time now." Dick spoke tranquil, "_Or _we could go ahead and ask her; she might surprise you."

At their reintroduced silence Dick rolled his eyes.

"Would it really be that bad if they see me? Not like they could help without knowing why they're tapping into the Speed-Force in the first place; they'll _have _to know."

"-Tt-, you pose a point Grayson, however, there's more to it than just that."

"For instance?" He mocked the teen who glared at him.

"Risk of exposure." Tim amended; interjecting their would-be quarrel. "The reason you're safe is because we are the only ones who know you're here."

Well he'd figured as much.

"Are you saying they'll spill?"

"Maybe not on purpose-"

"Wouldn't they have spilled where you are though? You're just being too paranoid—" Dick turned to Bruce exclusively, "sorry, B., I know it's on the Résumé but _come on_! You have to admit this's bordering on madness right?"

"…I say we do it."

"Jason!"

"You heard the man, the only thing we've got to loose are those kids crying a-bit if nothing works."

"Tim, you know he's right." Stephanie said and placed her hand on Tim's shoulder. "I second Jason's vote." Cass also nodded at Damian's side.

"Damian," Bruce called during a long-staring contest that Dick refused to yield.

"Yes, Father?"

"Do you vouch for them?"

"… Yes."

"Tim, start looking into Barry's file, Stephanie will help you with Wally's. Cassandra will remain on-watch. Overtake priority Mission for this until we find something. Selina will have to wait." Then those three made their-way outside after a firm-nod, and he'd yet to break the eye-contest. "Jason, Damian, you two will come with; but first we'll have a small History Session."

Dick grinned.

"Will there be a quiz afterwards? And do I get a treat if I get it right?"

When Bruce couldn't contain the small-smirk at his question Dick chuckled. The other two leaving the room so Batman could start.

"We'll see."

* * *

><p>It took roughly another hour-and-a-half, however Dick couldn't keep his bafflement at everything he just memorized from Bruce's strict lesson.<p>

So many things—so many deaths and losses.

No wonder things were like they were. He also had trouble processing how Bruce hardly kept anything from him. Though he specified some of the things he told him were strictly confidential and not for anyone else's ears.

That made his small scripts all the more plausible; bad as things were, secrets would always be kept among them.

Bruce had managed to convince him to rest for the night and Cassandra agreed to keep him company until he fell-asleep or it was her turn for returning to guard duties.

Damian had begrudgingly agreed only because it was his turn and with a regal demeanor excused himself for the day, with Jason following him after a deliberate roll-of-eyes (took forever for the guy to remove his mask) that started an argument among the two.

And now here he was, sitting on the floor not the least bit tired, that invisible force pulling him elsewhere and with his things all over the place while Cassandra stood by the door.

This was not gonna do.

"Don't you wanna sit? It's a long time to be standing." It wasn't but she was second on his notes, surely she would catch-on.

"Thank you," a smile and then there she was, deliberately waiting for him.

"So I found these notes that said you should know what to do in case, well, '_this_' happened." He gestured at himself opting for a direct approach.

"I'm happy you do," Cass whispered, raising a tentative hand to his head. Though awkward Dick lifted the corner of his mouth to encourage the girl, "what do you need to know?"

"Does Bruce know about Donna?"

"Selina knows, so do the Heads, and Jason. You didn't tell me about Batman, but he probably knows." She caressed his locks and Dick went limp under her touch.

"Does that mean one of them brought us back?"

"No. We don't know who or why, but Jason found you and you found Donna." The girl scratched his scalp making him close his eyes. "You went alone for her."

The scornful-implication that he wasn't supposed to was dully-noted and ignored.

"When?"

"Yesterday or the day before." Then that meant-

"The others; are they alive too?"

"The Heads say so. They know more than us. More than Jason." His heart-rate increased exponentially; his friends were alive! It didn't matter _how_ (not now), only _where._

"And Jason thinks he's the only one aware of it?"

Cassandra nodded, not once stopping her ministrations.

"What are you thinking?"

Dick opened his eyes to stare at hers.

"A change of strategy."

Cassandra was ready to listen.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you; I already told you what's gonna happen if you do, and you still wanna do it?"<p>

The moment Jason's shift had ended; Dick has been on-his-tail with Cass promising to help. Though he'd pegged the man to be stubborn he hadn't counted with unreasonable too.

"Donna's out in the open and I got my brain-fried with the past twenty-years' worth of events. I'm still trying to wrap my head on you guys, Bruce with white-hairs and my field of vision reduced to half! If the prices to pay are occasional headaches and a couple of convulsions I say _pass-the-check_." Dick argued, tired of the other's obstinate behavior.

They must've had a close-relationship for the guy to be so overbearing about his well-being. He'd really out-weighted the cons and pros on trying to keep the lid on things, but he was scared of being hopeless against his memories.

It didn't matter how much he tried or how many times Bruce and Alfred reassured him he considered these people family he _didn't._

_He couldn't._

Brain-was fuzzy.

"_And I'm telling you, you don't know what you're asking._ Since you came-back there hasn't been a _day_ when you've felt healthy! There's not much we can do about your eye, but it'll be easier than dealing with everything else!" The other man glowered at him with apprehension spiking his words and Dick barely bit-back a scream of frustration.

"Don't you get it? I don't care about the eye-thing! Donna's half-deaf and I can guarantee you she doesn't care either now that the shock's over!" Dick growled; a stab-of-guilt low in his belly at the silence from the mic.

He knew she didn't-Donna was _so much better _than him, and Dick really didn't care_-_not like he didn't have another one. It was just a good way to test the waters; Batman had actually _trained_ him.

_"You know I don't, Dick." _Donna confirmed when the silence stretched too-long.

"Listen, I..." there was only one way to make him understand but Dick didn't want to admit it: too-insecure about it.

_"Dick, you have to tell him—what was his name? Athena help us, it keeps getting harder to focus." _And that was the whole problem wasn't it? It wouldn't matter that Bruce had told him "everything" hours-ago at best.

"Sir, we're starting to forget." The way those teal-eyes widened with fear told him he only understood the tip of the Iceberg.

* * *

><p>Against better judgment they had to wait to exit the grounds to look for Donna, the guy promising to come back as soon as possible and leaving him in his makeshift room, where he read again-and-again the notes he'd added on his gauntlet from Bruce's lesson.<p>

Time was a funny thing when he kept determinant on reading and reading and exchanging the information to the girl on the mic, who repeated after him like a child learning to speak.

Every once in a while he panicked when Donna broke their reverie in-between few minutes or so; the first thing he noticed was how his field of vision was suddenly shortened and then his odd surroundings: he was supposed to be in Star City. There was also an insisting-invisible thug that demanded he follow it.

That was why he kept reading, because at first instance he felt the backpack in his hand and followed his messy scribbles to try to understand what was happening before going to his hidden-gauntlet that had seen better days.

Then flashbacks came with certain pieces that didn't make much sense but the notes said to wait so he did.

Out of nowhere a tall-man entered the room, wearing leather and fire guns and Dick could swear he read something along those lines, so after his initial reaction that had him retreating from the stranger he went to read along the lines to find anything about him.

"Dick?" The man said, making him drop his holdings; who was this stranger and how did he knew him? A glance around told him he wasn't in Roy's place, and for some reason he couldn't see from his left-eye. Batman's training took precedence when he deemed the new arrival armed and dangerous.

This man was trained.

"Where are we?" He questioned, summarizing his odd clothes weren't his; perhaps they were kidnapping Dick Grayson. It would explain this smelly-cove.

The stranger flinched like struck and Dick measured his chances of making a run for it until he got a hold of his friends. Bruce wouldn't be happy if he blew his cover.

"Hey, take it easy, no need for any of that," he who was now henceforth named broad-shoulders said, raising his hands in surrender to keep him in place, "I'm a friend; I'll just get Bruce for you,"

"You're hardly the first kidnapper to say that, buddy. Trust me: you don't want to do this. Just let me go and the police won't need to know about it; we'll call it a day." Dick tried his overused-dialogue when dealing with these people but the guy shook his head, like he was in the wrong.

"Just-stay put, give me a sec," broad-shoulders said reaching for his ear (huh, fancy goons).

_"Dick? Was that you?" _Donna's voice suddenly sprouted from his ear. Dick cursed himself for not being careful enough; what if these goons had searched him and found the mic? The ward of Bruce Wayne had no business with the Teen Titans. _"Dick, where are you? What on Hera is going on?"_

Eying his would-be-kidnapper and deeming him busy enough, the Romani sat on the floor, crossing his arms over his raised knees to give him cover.

"_Not so loud Wonder Girl, got a live-one here; where are you guys_?" He whispered, not taking his eye from broad-shoulders at 12 o'clock.

_"Not sure—it's too dark, and it smells terrible. The others aren't here."_ She answered, voice worried-enough to make him reconsider taking his leave.

Just when he was about to add more to the conversation a second man appeared; he looked younger and thinner than the first one, but his eyes-were glued to his every-move and the intensity of them made Dick fidget-y.

"Batman—Bruce's on his way—does he have a mic...? Jason, just what's—"

Dick acted, if these guys spoke of Bruce and Batman as one they already knew he was Robin and he needed to do damage control, find his friends and report to Batman.

They saw him coming a second too-late, and the Boy Wonder took advantage of it, twisting his way in between them, and using broad-shoulders' back like stairs kicked uncanny-guy right in his jaw, knocking him off-balance and blinding the taller with a twist of his leather jacket over his head before small-and-uncanny fell over him in a tangle of limbs.

When Dick made to disarm the disheveled man, a strong-grip stopped him, and the Boy Wonder colored-himself surprised at the reflexes of his captors.

"Dick—_stop it_, we're trying to help!" Broad-shoulders grunted, picking himself from the floor with small-and-uncanny on his tail.

"Silly me; sorry fellas, thought the exit was—"

_"You will cease your steps immediately. Who are you and where are my friends." _Donna's voice brought him-out of his squabble; he could hear heavy fighting on her end after she said that.

With lighting-speed he dislocated the articulation of his wrist, gaining momentary control of the offending hand who panicked at the action barely enough for him to flip himself into an aerial-kick and enclose the men in the room in a hurry. They would be after him; Dick knew it and cursed under his breath when a quick inspection on his middle found him lacking his utility belt.

He'd have little to no chance to defeat them without it.

Just when he thought he had some time to figure a way out another one came; a costume in the way Dick was one when Robin came out to play.

"Grayson, remain calm, Fa—Batman is on his way—"

"And just who are you?" He'd yet to meet a cape like this one; wait, was that a _Robin_ costume?

The other two joined them, and Dick found himself in the middle of three strangers with an increasing-headache that came as abruptly as the three men before him.

Had they drugged-him? It would make sense 'cause he wasn't feeling so hot. He tumbled from the unexpected vertigo to the floor, broad-shoulders keeping the other lanky-ones at bay.

"_Shit_. Give him space."

"Are you mad? He's went completely pale!"

"Damian's right, we need to put him in the med-bay."

"Trust me, at this point this is far better than the alternative. Is B. close? And where are Cass and Barbie?"

Their words didn't made any-sense; it was like he was underwater, and no matter how much he tried there was no way to make ends-tail about it. The severity of his sudden sickness was too much, and he braced himself against a wall, fighting against it and distantly hoping his captors hadn't been lying and Batman was on his way.

"Sensors say Batwing's landed. Steph's on guard-duty and Cass's mic. is silent."

"At least he'll recognize B., come on, give him space,"

Dick wasn't able to hold his stomach contents any longer, painfully retching just by his hands to feel he'd misdirected amid the migraine. Hands were lifting him to stand-away from his mess no sooner after he kept bawling his insides-out. When had the shivering started?

"Todd, just what is the meaning of this?!"

Amid the sickness a penny-dropped: something deep-and-warm was calling-him… a song without-words that rang with steady pulls-in-his core that had him reach towards some point only his instincts knew about.

The commotion didn't matter anymore. He could feel it—_her_.

"He's reacting to Donna. Move him to his room." A looming echo reverberated amongst the other ones; even underwater he could feel it was familiar in a sense that brought comfort.

"Oh my God, Bruce,—is Cass holding...?!"

Warmth; one that dissipated the clouds on his minds-eye parting through the onslaught of confusing thoughts that held no order. Names and faces started making sense slowly but surely when Dick distinguished his stomach was resting against something soft. Just like before, instinct pulled his right hand mid-daze to feel another one's warm-reach intercept him mid-path.

"Should've figured you went for her, I guess I owe you my thanks, sis'. You okay though? That looks like it hurts."

"She's a strong warrior. And she was scared."

"Tim, go make sure Cassandra gets that swelling-down, then rendezvous here."

"...will do."

"Damian, go to your team and put them on guarding-shift, after that you're to bring Stephanie here. Jason, you will go get Alfred."

"Sure, Boss-man; this is gonna be _fun_."

Trying to focus his blurry-gaze and ignoring the familiar voices, Dick grinned tiredly at Donna's beat-smile trying to catch his breath.

"So much for a first day, huh,"

Donna chuckled and clutched his hold.

"Bet it beats yours."

Dick laughed out-loud.


	29. Nothing according to Plan

_**Author's Notes: **__Okay, so basically a lot of dialogue that we need to get out of the way. _Also, everything regarding the Speed-force is mostly manipulated to believable extents for the story's purpose. _The chapter turned out to be so long that I had no choice but to cut it in two (the other's only one-third done, so it's that big), so prepare for a lot of hair-tugging since we got all the Batkids discussing frankly together._

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Angst, frustration, and some fluff feelings. _

_Thursday October 2nd, 2014 Words: 10,184._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXIX.- Nothing according to Plan.  
><em>

_-~19:27hrs. (Next day) Hidden facility inside the D'Angelo Sewage Treatment Plant._

It felt strange to have the cat-out-of the bag, Dick summarized, walking alongside Donna in-much better clothes and higher-spirits.

Jason had been reluctant to share part of his story; fortunately he hadn't counted on Cass saving his broody-self.

Apparently his brother had stumbled upon him at the beginning of the year by accident and helped him shortly before they went to Omicron-Metropolis to save Tim, after which he'd lost contact of the acrobat until yesterday by-chance, when they stumbled with him and Milagro and Jason had agreed to keep Donna hidden as was per his request.

He said nothing else. It had just been a coincidence.

A far-fetched coincidence, but it had to have some true to it since it was easily bought.

Shaking his head he slurped the last remains of his milkshake. Bruce said the yet-unnamed Team had been securing food for the City—who now lived in the Asylum to be kept from being terrorized by the Inmates or worse, Superman.

That one had actually hurt. He wished he hadn't questioned Bruce's word when he told them Superman had been responsible for most of the World's genocide—including Dick's; of course Batman had proof.

He _always_ had proof.

And Diana...

He chanced a peek to his friend, who also had a milkshake of her own, though unlike him, was taking her time with it, refusing the break their hold, yet cautious of the bandages from his previous escapade. That was her sister who'd been exiled from her own Kingdom as a result of her life-decisions.

Donna had cried for hours.

Dick slurped again, following his Guardian's (Father's?) shadow.

Although most of their memories were getting better the longer they spent together, the damage had seemingly been done, and the doubt that enveloped each movie in their heads (more than occasionally) left them lost.

Was it all a dream? A fabrication of an alternative reality by the hands of a very-brilliant-if-not-bored villain, until their friends or any member of the League found them?

"Do you really need to do keep doing that? Honestly, Grayson." Damian quipped at his left, to which he gave a one-shoulder shrug.

"You just want one, admit it. Should've asked Alfred, no way he'd say 'no' if you asked nicely."

"The day Junior asks something instead of demandit is the day I'll stop using guns for a livin'." Jason scoffed at Donna's right, shaking his head-dramatically.

"Careful, Todd, we might remind you, you're only a guest at best after all your treachery."

"And this is how you treat your guests. Instead of a shake you should ask Alfred for some manners."

"He has a point, Damian."

"On Themyscira you would be facing punishment for that amount of disrespect towards your sibling. Perhaps a challenge. The world of men eludes me, no matter how long I've been here." Then Donna looked at him with judging eyes. "It's actually disgusting to hear you do that; stop it."

Dick grinned apologetically to which Donna rolled her eyes, and adjusted her backpack with a reel of her shoulders.

"_Boys_."

"_Regardless_ of insult, you are not one to talk, Grayson. Father and Pennyworth have quite the collection of your misadventures." Damian stated, bypassing Donna's comment; the teen's discomfort around her was funny.

That shut-him-up though and Dick stared at Bruce with look of such acute-betrayal that prompted Jason's laughter, Damian's satisfied chuckle and Donna's glinting eyes. Bruce, as if sensing his ward's (_son's_; he kept forgetting that) eye turned to look at him over his shoulder.

"You were warned to face the consequences of your actions. The Chandelier had to be replaced more times than its warranty allowed after the first one; and the gardens were never the same."

Dick winced. Did he have to keep reminding him of the Chandeliers? He hadn't known the first one he broke was there since the Mansion was built; it wasn't like he'd misjudged his footing on-purpose (he had the scars to prove it). And the gardens' situation was so not his fault! Landscaping improved didn't it?

"I said I was sorry…not like you didn't make me clean the Cave for months," he grumbled moments before Batman stopped just like their brief-chat.

"Are you two sure about this?" Bruce asked them with every-bit the heavy-weight of its implications. 'You'll change everything,' it's what he meant, 'there won't be a way to go back' he meant to warn.

They understood enough: he'd talked to Donna the remainder of the night until but an hour ago and the two had reached an understanding.

"Yes." Both answered at once. Plans always changed, at least they were the ones making the change, he tried to soothe himself when they made their way inside, their lithe bodies hidden by Batman and Jason's when Damian went toward his group.

"I will remind you that nothing said in here will leave this place unless specified by Batman or myself, understood?"

Bruce told them Damian briefed the teens about breaking-news the night before, and had gone with his team to bring the rest of the West's; it was enough that if he or Donna were to change their mind, they wouldn't know any-better.

"Yes, sir!" Four new-timbers answered in the reduced meeting-room.

With resolution after a tentative-squeeze to Donna's hand he stepped between Batman and Jason, bringing the Titan along and defiantly ignoring the unusual chill-up his spine when he saw them up-close.

The resemblance was eerie.

He felt Donna shift between her feet, her anxiety palpable after a distinctive crush on their grip with a speck of amazon-strength.

Five people stared at the two; unconvinced of what to make of them.

Dick wasn't sure what he thought about it; he summarized they had every right to be confused, not like they ever met him before he went past Batman's shoulders. Then one of them took a cautious step-forward, with Dick and Donna standing-put for her inspection.

It was a grown-woman with jet-black-hair who hid her mouth beneath quivering fingers. She kept looking from him to Donna in impeding circles, reaching one of her hands towards them like they were a mere reflection, but neither knew who was she exactly.

"It's not possible...it's...it can't _be_."

"Mom?" The twins asked hesitant, so that had to make her Wally's wife. It brought a new light to her for Dick to scrutinize the woman who'd his friend married in search for a memory to tie a name.

The woman remained oblivious with her eyes glued on them; in all honesty it was a little disconcerting. The intensity of her gaze and the palpable battle she had with herself when she probably identified them. Maybe they would meet her in their nearby-future.

Regardless of intent, she finally detached her eyes from them to stare at Batman followed by a vigorous shake of her head.

"What's the meaning of this, Bruce?" She pleaded, going back to look at them with glistening dark-eyes.

"I think the meaning is perfectly clear, Lady." Jason simply interjected, crossing his arms in nonchalance.

"Are you Wally's wife?" Donna asked, breaking the staring-contest between the woman and Jason, and ignoring the fidgeting forms in the background.

"…yes." Wally's wife turned to them after a flinch; voice-broken with quivering lips, she folded herself to her knees to observe them better.

"A pleasure. We're awfully sorry about this; it must be very confusing." Donna said, tugging at his hand discreetly to add to the conversation. The woman was nodding lost in a daze of her own; eyes no less threatening to release tears than a moment ago. "You have lovely children."

"I take it you know us," Dick said, abnormally self-conscious with all the watching eyes, "sorry we can't say the same. Our years are getting to us." He joked, trying to break the tension.

At her questioning look directed to Batman, Dick was stunned to see him nodding with empathy.

"It's them, Linda. However their memories were affected at some point; they will have trouble remembering something past the age they resemble. We expect it to get better."

Another slow-nod, "…so it's true. I—I've seen pictures," a nervous laugh she swallowed with a sob, "—a lot of them; Wally always liked to keep them all over the house; always changing them to other ones so they didn't stay _just_ in the albums," she choked, now crying freely with eyes so sad Dick felt really guilty not being able to reassure her, "it's how I knew—_you look just like them_—" Linda sobbed, taking the Titans into her arms with every-bit of the strength she had.

After the initial shock Donna patted her on the back, silently allowing 'Linda' to cry to her heart's end from his left, and when Dick deemed to look past Linda's quivering shoulders another three-pair of eyes were already glistening.

"…no…_Uncle Dick, Auntie Donna..._?" Roy's daughter whispered in denial. No sooner than she said it, she and another joined the impromptu hug.

"You're both dead—Daddy said you were _dead_!" She bawled, digging her hands on his shoulders further. "_Everyone knows you're dead_!" She was taller than him, and her azure-eyes bore into his one with pouring disbelief.

"_Harper_." Damian growled from someplace above, about to separate them.

"Let's keep them thinking that, okay?" He was about to say more when a blur of orange-hair took his attention; 'Iris' was crying with her hair buried in his neck.

"Uncle Dick, Auntie Donna-_itreallyisyou_! _I'msorryImissedyousomuch_! _Somuch_!" She wallowed, clasping his middle and backpack in-between apologies and confessions of love and shame; half her words undistinguishable with her speed and face buried.

Lian was close behind, uttering the same as the other though with a more sedated-pace, and taking refuge in the other side of his neck and Donna's.

Dick chanced a glance over the three-mops of hair to see Jai hadn't taken his teary gaze-off of them, instead attempted to maintain his composure; then he must've caught sight of Donna eyeing him, because he stumbled to hug her side, silent in his grief.

Linda then shifted her embrace, now enveloping all the children as much as she could between her arms while whispering soothing words.

On the distance, Milagro's face was shining with comprehension while talking with Damian, who was avoiding looking towards them; there was something hidden there—the teen looked troubled.

Pressing his luck, he also sent a look towards Jason and Bruce, only to be nervous at the heavy stare sent their way.

Amid the people holding them, he tugged Donna's palm to catch her attention, and in the middle of the uncertainty they shared, Dick really hoped they made the right decision.

* * *

><p><em>-~21:21hrs. Hidden facility inside the D'Angelo Sewage Treatment Plant.<em>

Donna yawned, scarcely keeping her head straight anymore after the torturous couple of days they had went-through. Along the same train of thought she curved her neck to see Dick at her right sharing some data with Bruce.

Introductions aside, the Titan was honestly relieved the kids had gone to rest to process the news better. She had been overwhelmed by them, and was overjoyed on knowing that she and her friends were still very close despite their obvious life-paths and having to tend their own families (she was an Aunt!).

A small part of her, irrational in its nature, had ached at the news of Roy having a daughter that wasn't also hers. Even if she knew deep down that they had went-past the stage of being a couple several times, her young mind pushed the knowledge aside and hurt unfairly.

Lian was a wonderful girl; brief flashes when they played Supermodel together and with a third woman that had gorgeous-fire hair resurfaced and so did her guilt at her petty sentiments.

She was an Aunt. The bonds with her friends stronger with the passing of every spring. It had been her only consolation through her inner-turmoil, and the only thing that kept her from squirming uncomfortably when the hold went-by far longer than she considered appropriate. On the back of her mind she was sure she'd never felt so before; she knew them, and cared deeply for them.

It had been too long a day.

As she stared at Dick, she knew that sleep would be the last thing on his mind. Her friend tended to pull more-weight than he could reasonably handle. Distantly she toyed with her backpack's straps. When they finally came-out from Dick's 'room' after solving things-out, they had received apprehensive stares from everyone.

She guessed their first assumption was that they would flee and make their own path. Admittedly, they weren't without cause; Donna had been steadfast on her decision to keep together and by the Gods she wouldn't be dissuaded otherwise (though the occasional migraines she could do without).

Dick had placated the others soon-after; they couldn't risk anything with their minds-clouded, he said; it was just a precaution he reassured them. Fortunately nobody questioned them anymore, perhaps more out of inadequacy or plain bewilderment at their circumstances than anything else.

It felt so odd; she could perfectly recall a conversation with her sister about being careful around those boys and how she needn't do any of this to prove a point. It was odd to have everyone just accepting their decisions when they've _always_ been questioned and second-guessed.

At this point she would take it. There was this void she couldn't fill, and it troubled her that the pace in which she was starting to make sense of her head was slower than they've expected. Actually, it felt frightfully familiar and also spiked Wally's person to her mind.

"You can go to your quarters and rest for the night, Troy." The youngest—Damian—said without removing his eyes from the table where he and the rest of them interchanged data.

She shook her head, and then bit-down the following yawn.

"If you're really tired you shouldn't push it, Donna. You've had a long day." Tim stated with a more comprehensive timber and an amicable upturn of his lips. He was by far, the nicest one of the brothers, and she could pinpoint his face and a vague-semblance of their relationship she supposed.

Again she shook her head.

"It's alright."

Dick finally ventured to part from the holograms to face her. She pouted at the fatigue beneath his eye; if anything he was the one who needed to go to sleep—Donna was an _Amazon_.

"You can feel tired, you know." Dick told her. She nodded in comprehension about to take the suggestion and take him with her.

"Donna," Batman beat her to it, and Donna was duty-bound to listen instantly, "go and sleep; you've earned it." A nod towards the girl-in-blacks—the one Donna felt remorseful at hurting at the sight of an impressionable bruise on the girl's jawline. "Cassandra can take you to her room so you can rest appropriately."

The aforementioned woman was already waiting for her to follow, but Donna panicked at the implication.

"What about Dick?" She shared a look with her friend who seemed just as confused.

"What about him?" Damian countered while Dick scratched his mane of hair.

"I guess I can go later; we'll be done in a few, you go sleep, Donna." He said with a reassuring smile that Donna didn't bought.

"I don't believe you; and where will _you _sleep?"

At that Dick turned to his family in question and Donna placed her hands over her small hips. The room from before wasn't that bad, all things considered, but frankly, Donna would rather Dick stayed with her, even if it meant foregoing the generous offer of Dick's sister's more comfortable quarters.

"Grayson can stay with us, Father." Damian stated gesturing to himself and Jason. She had figured that out-of-the-three young-men, those two wouldn't oppose to share space. There was a veiled tension between them and Tim for reasons she was sure she knew in the back of her mind, though they seemed _less_. It was odd.

"Sure, it'd be the only way we can make sure he's actually _sleeping. _Don't worry, Donna, we've got your boy taken care of." Jason procured her with a facsimile grin and shrug she placed when faced with the vigilante; recollections of a younger version of the man before her and in her friend's place trying to lead their team until she took the Leadership of the Titans instead.

So they _were_ close on their own. Interesting.

Batman nodded with Tim frowning at his side.

"Come, it'll be fine." Cassandra spoke with a whisper, gently redirecting her attention, but Donna involuntarily freaked.

"No." She made to stand closer to Dick, and took his arm among hers. "We stay _together_." She was _not_ going to wake-up confused and alone _again_; Donna **refused** to.

"The rooms aren't that far—"

"No; Donna's right." Dick comprehended her plight then. "We'll stay in the same place if there's no option; we keep together."

It was clear as the water that her friend wasn't asking, which automatically calmed her frenzied heart.

"Very well." Batman said, not batting an eye. "It might be for the best. You'll still take Cassandra's room; at this point we need both of you on top condition. Meeting will be adjourned until further notice, so that means _you_," he glared at Dick's spreading frown, "will go to rest too."

"Bruce—"

"It's an order, Dick. No negotiation."

When her friend's frown deepened she tugged him closer to her, raising her eyebrows; just daring him to lie to her about feeling as tired as she was.

"…fine. We're going, geez."

"_Finally_! I'm so tired I could sleep forever." Donna teased, earning a glint on his eye (so all wasn't lost), and they followed Cassandra to go rest after such a hectic awakening.

* * *

><p>"<em>Dick<em>, we _really_ need to sleep."

"Go ahead, I'll finish something first."

Donna glared at her friend's back, reaching towards him at the end of the bed with a far less patient disposition.

"You heard Batman; we can continue this later, it's important to rest." When she received a dismissive nod on her general direction she huffed and sat next to him, careful to keep on his left so she could hear him better.

Funny how he always seemed to gravitate on her right side. With a sigh she shook her head.

'_Of course he would do that. Stubborn boy.'_

"What's so important anyways?" If he was determined Donna would rather help him; then they might actually sleep for a change.

"It just—something _doesn't_ add-up. It makes no sense."

"What doesn't?"

He stopped his hands hovering on his gauntlet for a minute, and then shifted in his spot to face her directly, so Donna copied his action and sat cross-legged in-front of him, patiently waiting.

"My notes." Dick answered, taking another contemplative gaze towards the backpack. "There's something missing, I just know it."

Donna hummed while trying to think of something. He was probably referring to his gut.

"Hey, you never checked mine." She realized, twisting her waist to reach for her backpack at the end of the bed. She heard Dick hit his forehead with a loud 'slap'. "Careful there, sweetie; might knock more than just sense in that thick skull of yours."

"Hilarious." He reached towards her then. "Now gimme that."

She settled with a roll of her eyes and handed him over the bag; Donna was intrigued to see how long it would take him to recognize it was written in Greek and then ask for her help to translate.

"ελληνικά (1)." Dick grinned proudly and Donna sat-still; mouth-agape and eyes-wide. "Good call!" Then he went on to read like he hadn't just done something amazing.

She chuckled, shaking her head in wonder at his antics. Figures he would know the language; might've been him who probably encouraged her to write it like so.

"Hey, Wonder Girl?"

She shook herself out of her semi-lucid state: by the Gods was she _tired_.

"Yeah?" The look on her friend's face woke her enough to sit from her lounging position by the bed.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" he asked her, signaling a scribble she had some trouble focusing-on thanks to a dull-throb on her head.

"… yeah…" she took the backpack from him, reading the whole thing to let the information sink. How could she had been so irresponsible as to bypass checking her own annotations just because Dick had been telling her everything she needed to know? "So this means we can't stay here?" If there was a glimmer of faith in her voice at the new predicament she hoped Dick didn't took it the wrong way.

"Yes; and neither can he." The Leader of the Teen Titans answered in all his glory. "Get some rest; hopefully our heads will be better by the time we wake."

"Will we be leaving by then? What about your family; about our nieces and nephew—the Speed-force…?" While she wanted nothing more than to relish in the fact of their new destination she couldn't help worry about the other plans they've made.

"Don't worry, Donna; trust me, I haven't forgotten." He made a point to tap his gauntlet too, then he took his backpack, to place it back on his shoulders, and she copied his actions: better to have it at all times, after all the last time they woke… "Hey," Dick called her, and she lied on her side, facing him with uncertain blues.

"I'm sorry; I'm scared. I know it's silly," she confessed in a small voice, lacing their fingers when he took her hand in his.

"It's not silly: I'm scared too, but we're both here this time. We have each other." Dick whispered back to her, the truth behind his reassurance a welcome feeling that made her eyelids heavy and drop little-by-little. "Good-night, Wonder Girl."

A smile; her eyes were so heavy now….

"'night, Robin…"

For the first time since she could reminisce, the red fog wasn't underneath her eyelids when she slept nor were the constant aches that sprang what she assumed might've been her own voice she'd stopped recognizing after years of sleeping and constant scratching against her skin that became rougher and rougher until she couldn't feel but a ghost.

No sharp-point poked at what she assumed was her—their?—body; objects cold and breaking after pressure was applied with the constant pulls that became worst and worst when the songs that sprouted with different notes yearned for one another and they kept being pulled farther apart to keep them from singing.

This night—tonight, she sang-voiceless and undisturbed with another in her slumbers for once.

* * *

><p><em>-~16:48hrs. (Next day) Hidden facility inside the D'Angelo Sewage Treatment Plant.<em>

"Night-Robin, can I talk to you for a minute?" Milagro asked, venturing a look at her occupied teammates in the background. They've been doing drills since they woke—even Jai—but she could feel their anxiousness over the day's previous, um, occasions.

Over once long-dead 'Aunts' and 'Uncles'.

Milagro was getting used to the impossibility; even she had been no stranger to World-Famous Dick Grayson, and Donna Troy. They'd been as much as an inspiration to her brother and her.

Pero (2), the preteens they saw... well, they were hardly what she would've expected.

Her Leader nodded, and both walked a few meters away from the rest of their team. Milagro steeled herself into the subject she would have to cross; the others were too biased to do it.

"What is, Reyes?" Night-Robin demanded, and now, closely-observing her elusive team-Leader, she could really assume he was compromised too.

Ay Dios, this wasn't going to be easy.

"I wanted to ask you the reason behind yesterdays, umm, revelations, I guess?" She started with little eloquence. His stare without his usual domino-mask made her nervous and all too conscious of the thin ice she was treading.

"'You guess?'" He wasted no time in pinpointing her uncertainty, arching one of his dark eyebrows like she knew he did every time he questioned someone.

"Well, you can't expect us to believe you told us out of the goodness of your heart." Milagro was quick to dismiss her own hesitation. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just saying it seems fishy how you suddenly trusted us with their appearance just because it was the right thing to do." Hopefully he wasn't taking her words with spite.

Night-Robin glared at her, crossing his arms above his chest, and she felt he'd done exactly that.

"Not that you don't do the right thing—or that we aren't grateful you trusted us with this!" She waved her hands at the increasing dark-aura surrounding the older teen. "This is very sensitive information; I'm glad you trusted us, but you—all of you—wouldn't take a risk like that if you didn't need anything."

"Hm. Seems I've underestimated you, Reyes." Night-Robin surprised her with a satisfied voice; he was satisfied she was right about them? He kept being a strange one. "You are correct. My brother and Troy's '_revelation'_ as you've put-it to you was not without purpose." Then he inclined his head and afforded her a long stare. "Perhaps you would be a good choice to discuss the matter with first."

She gaped, confused between feeling proud and insulted at the implication.

"And what would that be?" Milagro asked instead; with their Leader feeling insulted wasn't abnormal; sometimes the guy seemed genuinely oblivious to the offensive remarks he gave. Must be childhood issues.

"Not here," then he walked past her towards the others, "continue with Evasive Tactics #7 until our return." He didn't wait for anyone to consent his order (they would anyhow) and signaled her with his hand to join him while tapping on his gauntlet.

They walked in silence to the floor above where they had been for the previous meeting, and Milagro felt nervous without her friends' company to reassure her she wasn't entering dangerous grounds (she totally was) all by her lonesome.

Night-Robin entered the small room without input, so she just followed like a good soldier would and stood by his side when he took the same seat from the last time.

The wait was a little nerve-wracking to be honest. She could count with her two hands the amount of times they both had been alone in the same room for more than two minutes before somebody else joined them.

It made her all too-aware of the situation she placed herself on her own volition when she had decided to follow Iris and Robbie all those months ago, but also made her all the more conscious that she and Damian had more in common with themselves than what they would admit.

Like yesterday for example; Milagro would've been lying if the teary-reunion of her friends' with their loved-ones hadn't been awkward for her as an audience.

Asides from an occasional mention from her brother, she had no ties with the former Titans; no 'Aunt' or 'Uncle' to run to. And it was another one of those moments when, despite her friends' efforts, she felt secluded from their previous life spent-together.

Watching the black-haired teen's head, Milagro knew he was the only other one she could relate to when placed with the feeling of being an uncomfortable third-party.

Maybe that was why she had no qualms to voice her thoughts and opinions to him, and why the others usually turned to look at her to do it for them. She and Night-Robin were their own group of sorts; mismatched with the ties that bound the others, with their training.

The fact that they were also the oldest ones might've had something to do too.

Only now after her silent contemplation did she realize that the silence in the room wasn't as nerve-wracking as she'd established. It was filled with comradely gained through extensive bouts of patience and discussions where she had to prove her worth to her leader and vice-versa and neither found the other lacking—well, except maybe Night-Robin, but maybe not as much as he wanted to think.

After all, she was always worrying when she was with her friends: worried over their safety, because she was the oldest and had the more control over her own resources; worried for their mental well-being, because they had suffered so much and were too young to not be happy about finding one another.

And when Milagro was alone, all she could do was worry over her parents; how she abandoned them and her people too on a crusade of her own volition. Worried about her ring and the weight she had to carry with it.

Worrying; _always_ worrying.

It was only when Night-Robin was around that she could think with more clarity; that she could dissipate the weight because she trusted him to make the hard decisions for everyone even when he was a pain to deal with most of the time.

That was probably why she had time to ponder like this; because she could sidestep her usual worrying thoughts when he was nearby; and wasn't that what friends did? Shared burdens—distributed the weight?

She refocused her dazed-eyes to his profile again; nourishing in the revelation.

He wasn't her Leader (he _was, _but that wasn't the point); he was her _friend_. He was probably starting to become her _best friend_ and she hadn't even noticed.

"Is there something you want to say, Reyes?" Damian cut through her line-of thinking like a blade.

"¿Qué?" She answered fluently, a new-light forming around him when he twisted on his chair to grant her his attention.

"You've been staring." At his raised eyebrow, Milagro didn't stop the smirk filling her lips that only grew in response to his confused-narrowed eyes. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," she answered, enjoying having the upper-hand for once when he glared at her in petulance; now that she started adding the pieces, she could see how he was easy to read when he was relaxed, "just thinking; nothing to lose your sleep about."

"Tsk, your antics grow tiring; do try to not overexert yourself from contemplating far more than what you're used to." He dismissed her, and, oh, she could really see it _now. _How could she had remained blind to it for so long would remain forever a mystery… or maybe not, considering they hadn't spent much time together enough for her to really dwell on stuff.

Whatever. They were so _besties_ and the punch-line was she was the first to discover it; Damian would never live-it down (she wasn't going to let him live-it down).

Grinning in answer to his usual-taunting—seriously, how did she missed they always taunted each other?—she secured her hands behind her and swung in the balls of her feet. She had a best-friend and she hadn't even realized it!

"Whatever you say, _amigo (3)_." She chirped, proud and giddy of his dramatic roll-of his eyes (he never rolled his eyes at anyone else _but _her!) before he resumed his previous activities.

"Perhaps it would be wise to add an appointment with Dr. Leslie in the nearby-future; less there might actually be something wrong within your brain."

She scoffed amused; now that she made sense of things, nothing he said—maybe; Damian could achieve a medal at pissing people-off—could make her angry. Life was full of surprises if among their own team, she found more solace in the dramatic-uptight-teenager.

"Sure, while we're at it we can ask her to remove that stick up-your-butt."

Predictably, he clicked his tongue in distaste, but didn't fumed in righteous anger as he would have on their first meeting or when Iris was getting the better of him.

She loved her friend dearly, but sometimes she stuck her foot in her mouth one-too many times; luckily she had Lian to fish her out of troubles—and now Jai, too.

The soldier liked Jai a lot; he was more tranquil than his sister, a perfect balance, and naturally amicable to get along with.

"We've thought about it." Red Hood's voice broke their friendly chat with Black Bat on his left. "Unfortunately it turns out it's a Medical Condition that was hereditary from both sides of his family; talk about bad luck in the gene-pool. Good thing we're the adopted ones, right sis'?"

Black Bat beamed that exquisite smile of hers and nodded, sitting beside the older man whilst her friend reeled with irritation.

"Spare us from your pathetic attempts at jokes, Todd."

"I don't know, maybe he has it in him; he thought about it pretty quickly. Although he could be deflecting out of jealousy in the first place." Milagro shrugged, earning a surprised look from Damian and what she thought was a glare from Red Hood (the Helmet was an unfair advantage).

"I see you've been teaching your pets well, Junior." Red Hood said nonchalant before yelping at the sudden smack to the back of his helmet, courtesy of his sister. "What? She was technically insulting you too."

"She's his friend." Black Bat said simply, awarding her a notorious nod filled with new-found respect.

Black Bat was _definitely_ her role-model.

"_Regardless_," Damian, not one to be forgotten added with reproach, "despite your barbaric ways, Reyes proves a point, Todd. It would bode you well to not antagonize her any further." And just like that the conversation dropped and the three easily side-stepped into other topics while she stood in-place.

He hadn't denied Black Bat plus there was the additional perk of standing-up to her; and she could see that the three siblings held no ill-thoughts to one another despite what appearances might've implied, what with their exchange of words. It made her wonder if the friendship she had formed with Damian was similar to the relationship he was forming with his siblings.

At least these two; she could tell the changes on their interactions however subtle from when she met all of them until now.

"Did we keep you waiting long?" Batgirl added, followed closely by Red Robin, and wasn't that another relationship that had slowly progressed into something closer than what first appearances said?

"No, it's alright." Black Bat interrupted both her friend and his brother knowingly. "How is he?"

"We need to reach a decision quick," Red Robin said taking his seat, and whom was he referring she had no clue, "it's dangerous to keep him here."

Oh; _him._

"What do you suggest we do then, Replacement? Let him roam free?"

Red Robin glowered at the clear aggression behind Red Hood's words, making Milagro flinch and hide behind Damian's seat; if there were two people she hoped she could avoid seeing together it was those two (at least without Batman in the same vicinity). There was something dangerous in the air whenever they exchanged words—even space.

Watching Damian she understood there was a buried tension between him and Red Robin too, but it wasn't dangerous; at least not anymore. It was strange; receding to just aggravation when their ideas clashed more than anything.

Completely unlike the older two… Milagro shivered.

"Of course you wouldn't think any other choice, Jason. If you stopped for a moment to think things through before doing them you'd find the fallout is extremely different."

"_Guys_," Batgirl groaned in exasperation.

"And you would know about it; all that time _thinking _because in reality you're too scared of _doing._"

"Do we really have to go through this every time?"

"We wouldn't if your ex hadn't trouble in keeping his mouth in check."

Milagro watched Batgirl huff in annoyance.

"You were the one who started—Tim was just opening the discussion."

"Where's Batman?" Black Bat asked, dissuading the attention back to her.

"Guard-shift. Father made it clear we were to discuss this amongst ourselves first." Damian procured, faintly nodding towards her to sit in the only clear space beside him, opposite from Red Hood.

She shook her head discreetly; she felt unnerved since Batman wasn't here to watch the two oldest brothers.

Damian scowled and she avoided his eyes guiltily.

"Guess the old-man still has it," Red Hood commented inclining towards his sister, "talk about surprises."

"How are you so calm about this? We just discovered you lied to us—" Batgirl stopped from her tirade, eyeing her cautiously in advance to crossing her arms against her chest. "I mean, whatever. So what do you guys think we should do?"

It irked Milagro that she had no idea what they were talking about, and it must have shown on her face because Red Robin was eying her methodically sans cowl.

"Milagro, have you been briefed?"

She looked at Damian first, hands at her back like the soldier she was.

"We were getting to it, Drake. I assumed we had another few minutes before all of you arrived at the least." Damian answered a little off-put at his reply. So she _was _going to be briefed, wasn't it about their involvement though? It made her nervous to think it might've involve Superman.

"Are you serious? Aren't you the one who's always complaining of not being prepared for Meetings—a Meeting that _you _called in the first place. You're getting sloppy, Damian." Batgirl halfheartedly scolded, sending her a sympathetic glance. "No wonder you're so tense; we must be confusing you a lot."

Damian had the decency to look rattled by the blonde's statement. Milagro, on the other hand, was quick to act; she didn't like how every-single one of them focused on her when it was an honest mistake.

"I know the basics; Damian told me we were going to be discussing why you needed to tell us about Dick Grayson and Donna Troy." She deterred any further misconception, relieved when her leader nodded after awarding her a calculating gaze.

"Indeed," he made a more brusque gesture to offer her the seat on his right, leaving her without the option to decline, less she might make him look bad in front of his comrades, "furthermore I sent you the details regarding this Summit, there was no mention of either topic you've brought in the open." He chastised completely regal at regaining his upper hand.

"Again, it falls on Replacement's shoulders, after all, he was only 'opening the discussion' about it," Red Hood mocked Batgirl ready to strike that ball.

Red Robin glared daggers at the man.

"I only answered Cass's question; nobody was talking to you. Of course you find yourself in that spot so often you do anything to be involved in a conversation that doesn't include you."

'_Ouch.' _That made Milagro almost wince, and she shifted her body ever so subtly towards Damian.

Red Hood wasn't even bothered.

"She's my sister; anything concerning her, involves me." Then he cocked his head in her friend's direction. "Same applies to him." He voiced with an undertone that challenged the other's stiff-back to keep disagreeing.

"I hope not the 'sister' part," Batgirl kidded when the room felt degrees colder; Milagro hadn't seen surprise as clear on Damian's face since she told him of her ring, "you look distinctly male to me, Damian."

"Huh, you prove a fair guess, Barbie. And here all this time I've been saying I've got only one baby-sister. You wouldn't hide anything like that from your big-brother would you, kid? You can trust me."

Black Bat chuckled and sent her friend an apologetic look when he turned his nose and scoffed.

"Unfortunately recent events demonstrate the opposite, Todd."

"By the way, shouldn't we be discussing this with, um, the people in question?" Batgirl misdirected the topic again, looking at Red Robin's ice-gaze.

Milagro couldn't help feel sorry for how excluded he was among siblings.

"Last I checked they were still in their room." Red Hood added lounging more comfortably on his chair with an annoying creak.

"They're still sleeping. We shouldn't bother them until we have something solid; Batman will be included in the next Meeting too." Red Robin answered clipped, opening some files for all to see on his Holographic Computer; Milagro loved them, and found incredibly funny that the people around her were _such_ personalities that they _had_ to _have _them in different colors.

"Very well," Damian said next-in line, facing towards her and she mirrored his action, "as you may have been capable of discerning from yesterday's entanglements, neither my brother nor Troy are at their former persons." She nodded solemnly; comprehending the implication. "Dick then suggested we ought to try something with the Speed-force, since he was previously informed by Wally West it could tamper time."

Milagro felt her mouth dry; so that was why they had to go for Jai and Mrs. West.

"We know it's a long-shot, but it might be worth the try." Batgirl added. "Dick said Wally's uncle was going to teach him how to avoid those disasters; you can understand why we're going along with it."

"The fact that remains though is how little control Iris has of her powers." Red Robin continued. "And the limited information we have on the Speed-force. None of the Flash's was very informative about their powers."

Black Bat nodded.

When it was clear everyone was expecting an answer out of her, she straightened in her seat clearing her throat.

"You say that like it's her fault," she defended her friend first.

Damian clicked his tongue in mild-aggravation and Red Robin waved his hand to placate her.

"We're not pointing fingers, Milagro. She has been without proper training for a long time, and the powers she has have made every Speedster in existence have a hard time in controlling them. It's one of our concerns."

"We don't want her to hurt herself for trying to help Dick and Donna." Batgirl agreed, and Milagro noted how they finished each-other's sentences often. "That's why we're afraid to ask her about it, and why we also brought their mom too. She might help them figure it out."

The soldier gave a firm nod after reassuring her friend's security was first.

"She might have more control than you think," she finally decided on revealing, looking straight at Damian, "she told me—vaguely—how she had went through something similar a while back. It's why Jai doesn't have his powers; Iris had to control the Speed-force or it would've killed them both. I figured it was because she had a better grasp then Jai, also she said it somehow made her older than him."

It was hilarious how the intimidating group around her was flabbergasted for once at her revelation. She found it even funnier that they hadn't noticed the visible age-gap among the twins in the first place.

'_So much for detectives.'_

"Whoa, I don't know why we didn't see that one coming." Batgirl broke the silence, staring at Black Bat as if asking for an explanation.

The other woman was at a loss, then, like a hound would she raised her head in direction to the door just a second before the lot of them had their computers at the work with a tiny version of two 'T's' blinking.

Milagro turned to Damian.

"Alarm?" She had nothing.

"Not quite." He mumbled sour.

"I'll get it." Red Hood sighed, walking strictly towards the door and opening it to the sight of two pre-adolescents staring at the boy's red-computer that mimicked the other's screens. "A simple knock woulda done it."

Dick Grayson shrugged, tapping something into his screen that immediately shut the rest of them.

"We actually did." Donna Troy interceded, taking the wrist of her friend and forcing them into the room. "A couple of times even."

"Must've been a hell of a discussion to keep you guys from hearing us."

"Always with the dramatics with you," Red Hood shook his head, placing his hand above the boy's shoulder to put him on his chair instead, "guess there's no helping it."

"How did you guys sleep?" Batgirl asked forcing a smile.

Milagro had never been more anxious by how much the tension rose in so little time.

"It was exactly what we needed," Donna Troy stated, "I don't think we've ever slept that long." This she said facing her friend, who now shared the seat by perching on the chair's back.

"Me neither," then that young face turned to her and _stared._

A penny dropped somewhere and pigs flew in the horizon because what the hell was Robbie doing watching her but he wasn't and then Milagro got how wrong she'd been all along.

"Oh, we found a message for a Conference," Donna Troy interjected because Robbie just stared at her and Milagro knew—she knew, and how could she be so stupid? "You are Milagro, right?"

"Yeah, Milagro Reyes," she cleared her throat, because Damian had just said they had trouble keeping things in-check, and now so did she and how was this even possible?

"Donna Troy," then she gestured to the perching boy above her—who kept _staring_, "and Dick Grayson at your service. What have we missed?"

"We were just discussing West's ability to aid you. Apparently we might've misjudged her skill." At that the boy _finally _stopped his gaze to grant her friend the honor.

"That's a nice way of saying you made a rash call without knowing squat about it."

"_Dick_," Donna Troy murmured and he offered a one-shoulder shrug.

Damian's glare seemed feeble against the argument; and now she could see why the two had always been together in their short amount of time as a group—matter of fact, Dick Grayson had helped them be where they were. It wouldn't be a fat chance if he planned the whole thing from beginning to end…

For goodness sake, it also explained Red Hood's disposition a few days back!

Milagro looked at Damian then; they must've looked like fools—caring for a child that was in reality taking care of them.

Her friend must've felt the weight of her eyes, because he slipped a hand under the table to grasp her forearm and added pressure.

'_He knows that I know now,' _

Nothing to do but to demand an explanation later, she supposed, so she returned a pressure to his own forearm. She was sure he got it since he dropped the hold to return to the others.

The soldier had no option but comply too; it was hard to stare at that face that harshly-enlightened the sunglasses and the bandages in all their occasions together.

"She had to tamper with it to save her brother and herself years ago." Milagro added, because she refused to let this get in the way. "I'm worried about her safety."

"Milagro—"

"—I don't think any of you realize she was in a life-and-death situation when she did that. There was no other way around it." She interrupted Red Robin because she needed to make this clear—this was important_. Iris _was also important.

Robbi—Dick Grayson's gaze remained unwearied and it jabbed at the back of her mind.

"We've established that Iris' safety was a definitive factor in the equation, Milagro." The man attempted again when he was sure he wasn't going to be cut-short. "But if what you're saying happened when she was a child she might've do better than we concluded."

"What are you saying?" she furrowed her brows in preoccupation: she didn't like where this was pointing.

Red Hood rolled his eyes (helmet gone the moment the two pre-teens joined them).

"That if we ask her she'll probably be able to do it."

"_No_."

"Listen, Gina, you don't seem to comprehend the significance of this." Red Hood snapped at her and Milagro felt her anger rise.

"Oh I follow enough. But to be frank, none of you do." Then she confronted the perched-boy with a hard glare. "Is _this_ the reason you brought us here: to tamper with the Speed-force? What for?"

"Milagro, you need to calm down." Batgirl acquiesced. "Arguing will not help anyone. That's why we're having a proper Conference: to discuss this peacefully."

"And avoid misinterpretations." Red Robin finished far more subdued but probably a little miffed.

"Reyes," Damian demanded her attention, and she yielded momentarily, "the reason we consider using the Speed-force is to reverse the ailment on Dick and Troy." He explained, and it made sense in a twisted way that she didn't agreed on one bit.

"Damian, you know that if you ask Iris she'll do it." Milagro attempted to reason. "What good would come-out of it? _They_ have no relation to it, and Iris will be devastated either way. You can't ask her that."

"If there's a _chance _that Freckles can do it, then it's good enough to do it."

"With all due respect, none of you know if it will even work." Again, she gestured towards the two silent pre-teens, "They look healthy enough, why do you want to risk another asset to your War effort for a 'maybe'? It doesn't make any sense!"

"Simple math, Gina: _they,_" Red Hood mocked signaling to both Titans below him, "are worth far more than _one _speedster."

She let the comment slap her for all of three-seconds before she went livid.

"Iris is a Meta—she's the last speedster!" Milagro backed her friend, outraged at having to fall to these arguments.

"Thus why I specified the 'one speedster' part. You really oughta learn to listen, Gina: this gets old fast."

"Enough: _both_ of you." Damian broke the argument, but Milagro was reeling with righteous fury.

"Damian's right; you're taking this way out of proportion. We aren't saying Iris' life is worth nothing." Red Robin reprimanded them. "We only need you to really comprehend our dilemma here, Milagro."

"What dilemma? All I can see is you taking a huge chance with something that will most definitely not work."

"What Drake means is that my brother and Troy represent an upheaval in the current scale." Damian explained, nodding towards the former man.

"What do you mean?"

"Dick reappeared back on February; I take it you noted slight changes in the every-day life even back at the frontier." Red Robin took Damian's cue and Milagro felt a shiver run-up her spine; simplicity was not overdone, not when the implications were crystal clear (she'd been part of them too).

"Sí… but—" her mother's voice stopped her from babbling: she had no argument.

"As you can see, admittedly after years against the same adversary even we encountered several limitations." Her leader added when it was clear she had nothing to say. "It would be foolish to not consider taking the risk."

It infuriated her.

"Then why risk them too? They've done so much like this—why do you need to put them in danger too?" She tried with a different approach.

"Because _we_ hadn't counted on the severity of the 'Cause-effect Clause'." The acrobat interrupted the whole lot of them. "Neither did any of them, by the way. But to be fair: that was neither here nor there back then." He excused the rest of the area stoically. "It's really something that for all our supposed worth nobody will even talk to us when we're in the same room." This he said to the girl nodding-agreeably beneath him.

"I thought they would at least acknowledge our presence." Donna Troy stated with following disapproval.

The soldier felt heat rise to her cheeks in shame at her poor disposition (something everyone was probably doing too).

"Sorry." Most of them mumbled or said, but the boy swatted their amends away: the damage, while unintended, was done.

Milagro had been on the receiving end enough times to get it.

* * *

><p>"Anyway, you'll be glad to know you've all made fools of yourselves because you're all wrong." Dick spoke coolly.<p>

"¿Qué?"

"Dick—"

"Don't worry Tim, we're more than happy to let you know where you hit and miss." Donna stated with reproach lacing her words. She'd always been their mother hen for a reason.

"So care to explain, Golden Boy?" Jason demanded when the quiet stretched for far too long.

"Of course not, Jason. Why we only wanted to make sure you were all _listening _to us first. You know trying to avoid any more predisposed misunderstandings."

In the background Dick saw Milagro flinch and hiss at the passive-aggressive remark.

"Strike one: Iris can't help us all by herself—it'd be impossible for her to do it." He listed with his index finger.

"You said—"

"Ah-ah!" He shut Tim's upcoming-argument moving the same finger to chastise his brother. "I _said_ I wanted to meet _them. _That _they _could help and needed to know why _they _tapped into the Speed-force. I never said Iris would be the only one." Then he paused reconsidering. "Even with my brain-fuzzy."

"Dick, maybe you aren't aware, but Jai lost his powers; Iris is all that is left." Tim tried to placate him, getting a glare in its place.

"And none of you fathom the concept of _listening. _You're worse than Batman." Donna argued for his sake. "It won't matter that Jai doesn't have his powers—he was born with them. He's part of the Speed-force."

That certainly shut everyone-up. Dick and Donna fist-bumped one another on reflex. (He wondered if the twins were in the dark too).

"Strike two: we're not dealing with math where two is higher than one. Meaning if there's a slight chance Iris and Jai won't be able to pull-through then it's a no deal."

"We aren't the ones you want if we risk even a life in exchange of ours. Regardless of the misplaced value you add to it." His friend finished, and nobody argued the point, still shocked with the first piece of information.

"While we're at it, you get a Foul ball: if Iris and Jai accept to help us, we aren't going to proceed unless we deem them ready, and nobody but Donna and I have a say on it. Now, with that out of the way, can we continue? Donna and I have things to do."

"_Important_ things to do." She nodded regally.

"…um, I have a question," Stephanie uncertainly raised her hand, "what are your standards for 'deeming them ready'?"

"Their level of training, what else." He answered annoyed, but Stephanie only seemed more confused.

"Right, but, what type of training are we talking about here? I'm trying to figure if you mean about specific speedster-training or just training-training."

Dick spared them a look before finally settling his eye on Donna.

"Is that even a question?" He asked her totally confused.

"I don't know…is there a different way to simplify it?" She answered him with the same amount of confusion filling her eyes, and they both turned to Damian when he cleared his throat.

"West has been preparing with basic drills for combat, endurance and covert purposes." Damian told them with a speck of pride underneath his reluctance. "When I'm not able to provide exercises directly, either Brown or Reyes take care to put the lessons in motion."

"Okay, yeah, but, asides from _our _training, you _have _taught something specifically-tailored for each one," Dick ventured, already perceptive of the horrible truth, "right?"

"We don't actually know how to help her with that, Dick." Tim amended, "Not even Iris knows."

"I don't think Linda does either." Stephanie said, "If not she'd have been way more prepared than she did."

Dick fell to the urge to massage the bridge of his nose; his patience was deteriorating.

"She hasn't been the only speedster—wasn't there one in your team?" Donna questioned Tim, unable to recall the name.

"Bert—no, Bart." Dick gambled a guess; the files were one-too-many.

"…yeah, but he had Barry and then Wally to help him out." Tim answered like it should've been obvious, and it irked Dick because what it was was an _excuse_.

"He was under your team." He insisted feeling the last crumbles falling. They simply didn't get it—how couldn't they _get it_?

"Of course, but even Wally had trouble dealing with his Uncle—"

"_Stop making_ _excuses_." Dick snapped, regretting just so the hurt on Tim's eyes. "If you're the one in charge it's _your _responsibility to see everyone receives the help they need in every step of the way."

"Dick, to be fair Wally was in your team too. Back then he relied a lot on Barry." Stephanie tried to dissipate the blow but it only made the Roma angrier; in the back of his mind he knew that if the situation were different he might've cut them some slack.

"What reasoning is behind that argument?" Donna questioned irritated. "We all had our Mentors; regardless Dick never let that stop him from giving us specific preparation for every-one of us." His friend looked at him. "You are particularly-tactless when we perform below average. Why have none of you applied what he did—you've been _Titans_." This she demanded from the others who remained mute against the confession. Why? Because Donna _got it_.

What was wrong with them?

Grumbling and with a foul mood growing worse, Dick covered his eyes with one hand; he was too mad to look at them right now.

"Forget it—all of you; forget _everything. _It's no use now." All those months… _nothing_.

"…I'm sorry, Dick, but _you _were the one who brought them here—who went for them. It's as much your fault as you're handing away." Stephanie's hurt voice argued for everyone's sake.

He inhaled deeply to keep his composure while Donna shifted in their chair, clearly upset about all following generations.

"Yes, it is." The Titan accepted easily. "It was stupid to think you would ask for pointers." Finally he uncovered his right-eye, his glare-tired and filled with pity. "After all, you've all had seven years' worth of experience in the art of avoiding each other."

The blow was low, Dick knew it, even sensed when Donna grimaced at their stupefied expressions, but he was _so disappointed_. He couldn't remember all of it—all of his plans: his life—but he knew himself enough to know he'd been treading on eggshells with every single person around him in an effort to make them a Unit once more.

The way to fix things was so simple if not for how complicated they liked to make things.

"You _left_. How could we when you just up and left without letting us know of your plans?" Tim whispered, avoiding his fatigued-eye on him.

"Because you still have Bruce; you still have Selina, and nobody wants to seek each-other out unless it's for emergencies' sake." When Tim finally deigned him his attention, Dick slipped from his perch and stood next to Donna, watching the man sadly. "Who do you think helped us with our training-regime when we became the Teen Titans? Bruce knows about honing speedster's skills, and I bet that nobody asked for his opinion when he didn't as much as glanced at them. His fault too."

"…I'm tired." Donna stated, no doubt feeling his depression oozing-out of him. "Can we go back to our room?"

Dick nodded, feeling Jason panicking behind him, "Yeah, we're done here." Then he saved Damian a final look. "I'll make sure to let you know when we can meet-up to talk to Jai and Iris; maybe tomorrow."

"Wait, you can't leave like this—" Damian spluttered indignant.

"There's nothing more to the discussion." Dick replied, heading towards the door.

"You basically announced you know how to train Iris—the solution to our conundrum—and you're going to leave the kid dry?" Jason stalked to him irritated.

"Batman can help you—"

"You're being unfair, Dick. To all of us." Stephanie argued too standing up, and Dick froze mid-step; feeling the foundation of his irritation spiking again.

"'Unfair'?"

"Sweetie—" Donna tried to placate him, making to grab his arm, but he shook himself out of her hold.

He had about enough.

"You could've avoided this, and I'm the one being 'unfair'?" Dick scowled at them.

"What do you mean—"

"I _mean _that if anything, you guys are unfair to everyone and I'm **tired** of holding your hands all the way to see that the moment I let go you can't tell _head_ from _tail_." He exploded, raking his hand over his head in frustration. "You've all gotten too lazy if you automatically expect me to do it—or ask Bruce in your place—without even asking the favor. **No**: I'm **not **going to tell you how to train Wally's kids, **you **are going to do something by yourselves for **once** and ask Batman about it, because, frankly, I don't want to help any of you anymore." With that, he stormed-off livid, pushing his way against an emerging Batman and Alfred with Donna on his trail who paused briefly to stare them down with hard eyes.

"Strike three: you're **out."** Then she was off too.

* * *

><p>(1) "Greek."<p>

(2) But,

(3) "[…] _friend._"


	30. A Word of the Wise

_**Author's Notes: **__Again, a lot of dialogue, but this time with the kids learning from their mistakes for a change. More story progress ahead.~_

_**Timeline updated in pair with this chapter.**_

_**Disclaimer: **__All the characters belong to DC and I only use them for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. If I did the reboot wouldn't exist. Like other details._

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.  
><em><strong><br>Summary: **__Post-apocalyptic world. Six long years ago the world fell apart at the hands of Leviathan. Now, the Bats must decide if past events and strained relationships are to be put aside to end the Empire, while trying to remain alive. Pre-reboot.  
><em>_**  
>Eventual Pairings: <strong>__Dick/Jason and Dick/Tim with Dick being the center of the triangle; hints of Tim/Conner, one sided Tim/Stephanie, and one sided Dick/Barbara, Minor Bruce/Selina and Bruce/Talia._

_**Warning(s):**_ _Angst, frustration, and some fluff feelings. _

_Thursday October 30__th__, 2014 Words: 4,283._

* * *

><p><em><strong>War of the Bats<strong>_

_By Robin Wingster_

_Chapter XXX.- A Word of the Wise._

Batman glanced at the back of his protégé who ignored his friend's attempts at calming him down before closing the door to stare stoically at all the youngsters' dumbstruck features.

"I gather the Meeting took its expected turn, Young Masters," Alfred said callously, fixing the hold on his cane, "must this become a necessity every-time Master Dick comes back to us?"

"Regardless, we have a situation." Bruce said when no word disputed the argument despite the distinct desire to speak against it. Then he made to stand closer to the table, staring straight at the girl from Damian's team. "I take it you know Santiago Vargas,"

The girl sputtered incredulously, taking the time to turn towards his son uncomfortably. Batman completely disregarded her uneasiness around him, though it would need to change for the upcoming agenda.

"She does," his son told him clipped, and Bruce narrowed his eyes to slits at the testy tone of the teenager who clenched his teeth at the reprimand, "however, there's a matter I would like to discuss first, Father."

Alfred cleared his throat and placed himself between Jason and Cassandra, mostly sensing the hostility in the small room. Bruce had an accurate hypothesis that it had to do with Dick and Donna's plans that somehow made him be on the receptive end of their clash.

"It will have to wait." These were his children, his soldiers and he would answer first as a father, and then as their General—he'd learned that the hard way—however they had a situation, and all this brewing anger towards him would damage his intentions far more than his young charges could accept.

"You can spare the kid a minute, old-man," If there was something Bruce hated it was how no matter how much he tried, or what he did: Jason wasn't keen on working to better their bridge.

"Bruce," Tim interrupted Alfred's upcoming aid, "_please_; trust me, you owe us this much."

"You have two minutes." He stated after watching every one of them for a solid minute; Santiago wasn't a pliant man, and Bruce would not risk this operation. "What is it."

"Do you know how to train speedsters?" Damian quickly demanded, making him raise an eyebrow beneath his cowl. The question was anything but, and after inspecting the whole room's inhabitants he wasn't able to pinpoint uncertainty on the matter.

"Obviously, but you already knew that. What is it."

"You knew?!" Stephanie screeched, her whole face red, and Batman had known it would be a mistake to start this conversation when there were more pending matters. "You knew and you didn't think you needed to tell us?! Dammit, Bruce! What the hell?!"

"Stephanie." He narrowed his eyes in warning. "This is not the time."

"_No_! It's—can't you see?! We've had Iris with us this entire time and didn't know what to do with her and you knew—you _knew_ and you didn't say _anything_! Why do you always do something like this?! It's like you like to sabotage your relationships—you always do something like this, and this is why you're all alone!"

"Steph," Cassandra cooed to soothe the upset young-woman.

"She hasn't been the first Meta with super-speed on one of your teams." Bruce explained, disregarding the blonde's outburst for the better. "I was in the understanding you had their training ongoing." This he said to both his youngest that went stiff, leaving Bruce to furrow his brows in exasperation.

"You had my authorization to do as you saw fit as long as we weren't compromised," then he gestured all five, "none of you asked, so take note of that firsthand. The subject is closed—" when he saw Cassandra about to object he sent her a look, "—for _now_. We have a situation to deal with. Milagro, are you aware of El Gaucho's involvement in the War?"

The girl remained struck, and then lowered her eyes momentarily.

"He protects South America—I don't know much more; that's more of my parents' division, perdón (1)," a moment of hesitation before she straightened, "Sir."

"Some days ago I went across the border to talk with Santiago with the sole purpose of obtaining his support in the War."

"The man hates you." Jason stated skeptical.

Batman grunted, making no observation on Jason's superfluous comment.

"And did you?" Tim asked him subdued.

"I'm telling you about it, aren't I?"

"He didn't want anything with us." His daughter muttered impressed, speaking the truth.

"What did you do, give him your car?" Bruce tightened his jaw at Jason's dramatics; they were losing valuable time.

"I told him our current Agenda. All of it." When all his charges gasped audibly Bruce nodded gravely in turn; it had been a hard lesson over the years, but they simply couldn't afford any more leniency—a lesson, Bruce concluded, that they all needed to follow.

"All—_all _of it, even—?"

"Yes. Even Dick." Bruce spared Tim's breath on it, trying to haste their adjourning.

"Father what has _possessed_ you to take such a risk?"

"Master Damian, that's your father you're speaking to, show some respect. My word, it's almost as if all those years' worth raising you were banished from your heads likewise." Alfred intervened with his sharp tongue causing his usual effect.

Regarding the whole lot of them, Bruce had to ponder if maybe he had wandered too much time away from his children where they confused speaking their mind against showing respect.

Maybe it was high time to make them remember that.

"…thank you, Alfred. Santiago might not be an easygoing man but he is trustworthy, and has kept his part of the deal." Batman turned towards Milagro. "However, circumstances as they are, he's having difficulties in recruiting the rest of our faction. We anticipated this resistance and that's where you come in, Milagro."

"I—I'm sorry, I don't follow, Sir."

"Your parents won't budge until you speak with them and tell them you came on your own free will."

"But, they are all the way south—"

"The North and Central Army of America has been the most successful one on standing their ground against Leviathan's forces. I'm not talking about the United States as a Country, but of the whole continent by itself: from Mexico to Chile. And that's just on this side of the world. Over the years we've found more resistance from Third-World Countries against the forming Empire than on the Developed ones. It's highly probable that Leviathan holds more interest on the latters based on misconceptions of an easier ruling." His gauntlet beeped urgently.

"…so, you need their help?" The girl asked, looking at his sulking son fleetingly when the teen did nothing to face him. "My parents won't help you, even if I speak with them—they've been guarding the Country for years!"

"They will. Santiago will take care of negotiations." Batman attempted to explain but the girl only shook her head furiously. "The war has been going long enough, Milagro. Your parents _will_ listen, and will give us their help; that is, if you deliver your part."

"They'll take me back: por favor no los deje (2)." Milagro begged him, and Bruce narrowed his eyes to slits.

"Your parents will decide what is best for all parties involved, if they do ask you to return that is their choice to make; regardless your responsibility is to secure their help."

"…sí, señor."

"…they know about your ring, Milagro. Your brother was a Titan and Superhero of his own device; maybe you should trust your parents more." Batman surprised the girl's somber façade, tapping on his gauntlet to initiate contact. "You aren't allowed to reveal anything but your choice, the ring and your team: everything else will be handled by El Gaucho or myself, understood?"

He didn't wait for the girl's affirmative instead watched with grim determination the blurry-image of Santiago's face getting clearer with another two people beside him.

The Argentinian seemed upset, but was at least trying to move past his irritation for the greater good.

"El Gaucho," he started, satisfied of the Reyes' shocked faces that loosened-up just-so (they probably hadn't believed Santiago), "Mr. and Mrs. Reyes," then he nodded towards the girl, who got closer with trepidation after his son's rigid nod.

"H-hola, papá, mama." Milagro cleared her throat, and Batman gave the Reyes' couple a nod.

"Milagro…" Mrs. Reyes whispered from the end of the line, causing the girl to flinch.

"I'm sorry—that I went away without your consent!" the girl bowed her head against the parents' stoic profiles. "Pero ocupaban mi ayuda y yo—lo siento mucho, papá, mamá—(3)"

"Milagro." Mr. Reyes stopped the girl's tirade while Batman and Gaucho shared a look. "We understand."

"¿Qué?"

"Cariño,(4)" the mother said, making comprehension dwell on the girl's face and Bruce was impressed with how one word mended their bridges, "Mr. Wayne, you can count with every single one of us for anything. Just, please, take care of our daughter."

"Thank you Mrs. Reyes. My son and their team are capable on their own accord, and count on us too." A nod towards a relieved Santiago. "I trust El Gaucho with the specifics, and will see to it that you get an update over recent changes in our plans in person; security can never be overvalued."

"We understand, Batman, thank you and your son for taking care of Milagro, we won't forget it." Mr. Reyes told him sincerely. "Te queremos, Milagro, y estamos orgullosos de ti.(5)"

"Finalmente,(6)" Santiago muttered angrily, "and you—just let me know when you'll come-by. I'm guessing I'll have to stick here for another couple of days at least knowing you, you ghoul."

"Noted. Ending transmission." With that he turned the gauntlet off immediately.

"Wait! I thought we were going to talk to them?"

"A message longer than 45 seconds is too high a risk. We'll have further meetings in the nearby-future." With that, he turned to leave the room. Even when he knew the meeting would be successful, Bruce felt the relief coming in waves when it was finally over.

"And where are you going? We weren't done talking." Jason demanded, stopping him barely on the open door.

"We weren't, but we interrupted your Meeting, and my watch for emergencies' sake. So you finish your affairs, and we'll reestablish a new Summit for a later date." He left them no room for arguing, and just went ahead, feeling the distinct absence of Alfred on his trail.

No matter, the kryptonian had been left alone too long, and now Bruce had to reschedule another trip to the border.

"Goddammit!"

"Master Jason," Alfred chastised the grown man, placing himself between the door and the room, "perhaps its due time for me to intervene, heavens know I tried my best to let you solve your issues on your own, but I can only stand-by so long."

"Alfred, this isn't what you think it is," Tim told him and Alfred raised his eyebrow in perfect incredulity.

"Of course it is, Master Timothy, after all, I've only been the caretaker of everyone in this family for most of my life." He told them, waiting a moment to placate his erratic heart to gain his composure. "I do offer my apologies children, since this could've been avoided had I interceded when first Master Dick came-back, but I must confess a part of me had hoped that you would make it work like the adults you've become; unfortunately I had correctly contemplated that very same reason would be your undoing."

"What do you mean?" Cassandra asked him so throughout confused.

"What I mean, young Miss Cassandra, is that despite the fact that you've all grown into adults, you remain part of our family, thus aren't expected to shoulder all your burdens and have all the answers to what might plight you. Master Bruce and myself, will always be more than glad to offer advice, our point of view, or any type of help possible. There's no shame in that." And he gathered some breath to continue, letting them soak his words like sponges.

This needed to be completely understood, lest they would be going in circles for the rest of their lives.

"But we won't know when to offer it, because, while you might not think anything of it, when you cover in your own business with remarkable similarity to someone you know, we see that our presence is unwanted—our advice unwelcome, so we fall into our own cover, with only the hope that you will ask for us before the situation turns dire, and Master Bruce's offer to provide anything you might need his tie to secure his hold on you." Alfred relented, feeling the weight of such secrecy leave his overworked bones. "It all ends with you reaching towards us, young Masters; your Father, awkward as he is, already sets the bridges."

Then, without more to add, he turned on his heels, the clank of his cane against the rock-floor amplified with the lack of sound that followed him all the way to the Titans' quarters.

"Hey, Alfred," the boy mustered offering him a sad look, while Miss Troy looked despondent herself, "do you think Bruce will take long? We kinda need to talk to him."

"If he received your message, young Master, then he must be here shortly, while we wait, how about we go for a nice clean change of clothes?" Alfred smiled at them, offering his hand and feeling the flood of sentimentality when the child took it.

* * *

><p>The level of awkwardness after the British-man left was suffocating in its own right, but what made it all the worse was how right he was.<p>

Taking a look at his family, Cassandra felt ashamed to recognize she was at great fault too.

It was sad at how desperate they were to show they could to it, when there wasn't any need—even when she felt herself happy to help her siblings, she knew she rarely went to them or her father for help.

Alfred was right.

"Does anyone feel crappy too?" Her friend muttered and she nodded in agreement. "I'm not sure if I feel better I'm not the only one now."

"We're too busy looking in front." She added with the need to find some closure and move on.

"Hard not to when we've got a prime example to follow." Jason spoke subdued and she was forced to nod too; her brother was right.

"But Alfred's right; even Bruce reached for us—I guess it's just… hard." Steph continued, frowning at her choice of words, but Cassandra saw no fault on them.

Tim sighed, despondent and using his hands to hold his head on the table.

"I think it's safe to assume we've reached the end of this summit. We'll regroup at a later date. There's nothing more to add now."

"Are you serious?" Damian's friend surprised them with an incredulous look on her face. "You just got scolded, and your solution is to go and hide instead of talking about it to find a way to fix it? Wow, and I thought me and my parents had a complicated relationship."

"The situation is completely different." Damian argued, but his friend swatted the comment away.

"Of course it is; I would never stop looking for my parents' support, no matter how old I was, nor would I assume I knew better than them just because I suddenly reached legal age. That's your whole problem."

"We've already been through this."

"A lot of good it did you if you plan on storing the advice away in the darkest place of your mind." The girl scoffed, looking at them with pity. "Miren (7), I know it's none of my business, but even if you have a crappy relationship between yourselves you shouldn't underestimate the value of asking and speaking with each other. God knows it's hard enough to understand people without the additional perk of mind-reading each other and assuming you deserve help that you haven't asked for." With that, the girl stood, "if I may, I think the next course of action, is to have someone ask Batman for help on Iris and Jai's skills. What do you say?"

She turned to look at her brothers, and Steph, contemplating greatly and then, as one, they all turned to look at Damian, who scowled but stood his ground in an amazing show of character.

"…fine," he spat with less venom than what he wanted, "I'll ask him."

"Nicely," Steph added with some mirth.

"'_Nicely_',"

"Don't overexert yourself, Babybird; I'll go with you too." Then her brother stretched and chanced a look at her. "Wanna come too 'sis? Might as well."

She nodded, turning towards Tim.

"Tim?"

"…I think you're more than enough, Cass. You don't need me."

"Stop with the melodramatics, Drake. You might come too, seeing as you're also giving them lessons whenever I'm not around." Damian stated, and Cass found joy on the invitation despite Jason's tense frame.

"…alright. Is the meeting adjourned, Damian?"

The teen nodded.

"The Meeting is adjourned; we will seek Father in half an hour at the end of the stairs of the first floor. Until then, do as you please."

Smiling, she got up, and went with Tim towards the Main Computer, happy of his company until they got to face their father again, and maybe then, Dick might prove receptive enough to forgive them when he saw they understood why he was rightly mad.

After all, that was what family was for.

* * *

><p>"How come you haven't found Selina?" Dick asked, sitting on the floor with Donna, far more sedated thanks to Alfred's help.<p>

"Your siblings were looking for her when they found you. She's been missing for weeks now; stopped making contact 24 days ago," Bruce replied him, reclining against the wall, and if there was a sign that showed how exhausted he was, that was it, "do you remember why you were looking for her?"

"Kinda," he answered, scratching his scalp, "we think we were supposed to go for her so she could take us to Themyscira." After watching Donna nod her consent he looked back at Batman who scratched his jawline in thought; the cowl long gone, and Alfred offering some coffee on his side.

"And why would you need to go there? That island hasn't been involved in the war for five years now."

"Hippolyta might help us now," Donna answered in his place, but Dick winced at the approach and predictably Bruce's eyes narrowed, accentuating his heavy bags below his eyes.

Dick reconsidered the benefits of Bruce keeping his cowl up for his mental well-being; he felt guilty at the fatigue on his guardian's face.

"That's not a guarantee; we know she exiled Diana five years back from the Island but not her position as Queen, and of her less than ideal disposition towards the rest of the world. She might not be as receptive as you think if you go and show her you're still alive, and mutilated to boot."

Dick glared at him, and Bruce sighed at his brusque tongue.

"I don't mean to offend you, Donna, just make you understand that she might not be the woman you used to know, and with everything going on, it might not be the best of things to do."

"She's my mother," Donna shook her head, "I'm sure she won't turn her back on me like that—she might not help us, but maybe she will. She deserves to know I'm here at the very least."

Dick heard Bruce sigh, giving Alfred his empty mug, and massaging his eyes.

"_Bruce_," Dick said, hoping his tone carried his thoughts to the man.

"I'm sorry, Donna," the billionaire said after a pause, looking sadly at them, "I don't think you'll be able to change Diana's allegiance. Too much has happened, and she's no longer the woman she used to be."

"You don't know that—if I could just talk to her; doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?" his friend begged his father, and Dick grimaced at the question. He wasn't the least-bit surprised that Bruce deducted the other reason behind their agenda.

"I wish it could be that simple, Donna. I really do, but you haven't seen what Diana has turn into. Hippolyta banished her for a reason."

"If that were true, then my sister wouldn't be as powerful as she is now; the gods would've punished her if she was without redemption. There's still hope."

"…if what you're saying is true, they might've punished her already." Bruce contemplated with a new understanding dwelling on his eyes.

"What do you mean? Isn't she still a threat?" Dick asked confused, and his father nodded solemnly.

"Diana has been appearing less and less over the course of time; the last time we encountered her we fared better than we would have if her strength had been the same. I've pondered if she was ill, but with what you're saying it's safe to assume she's lost her strength gradually as penance."

"An incredible advantage, indeed." Alfred added to the pensive ambiance and Dick watched Donna bit her lip in frustration.

"Well, but Donna said that they would've removed all her strength if there wasn't any hope for her left—she could still help us if we try to reason with her, and what better way than to ask Hippolyta for pointers. We could do an intervention—"

"Absolutely out of the question."

"But—"

"That woman assisted in your capture—she was there when Kent _killed_ you." Bruce spat the words, shutting them up for good. "She's the third in-charge of the empire, and if you go to her, she could take you back to where you were and you'll be lost again."

"…Diana would never do that…"

"It's simply too risky to act on that alone; for what it's worth, I am truly sorry, Donna."

A quiet overcame the room, and Dick found himself feeling the dejection coming from Donna in waves; while Dick agreed his Mentor had valid points; there must've been something they could do to at least give it a try.

His friend deserved more than that.

"What if Selina wasn't the only one coming with us?" He tried reasoning. "That way, if things went south fast we could stand a chance—and it's not like Hippolyta would leave us dry either."

"If I go too I'll consider it." Bruce sighed in fatigue and it left him feeling guilt nab at his gut.

"It would be more plausible, but Themyscira still abides by the laws: no men are allowed." Donna interfered. "Mother and the gods might do an exception, given our bond, and appearance: children are often bypassed if the need arises."

"Perhaps, Master Bruce, Miss Cassandra might be a good choice. I assume you counted on Miss Kyle's assistance given her field of expertise."

"Yeah, someone to sneak us in, and out if the plate's too hot." Dick nodded, giving it serious thought. "Cass might do fine, but she's an integral part in here—the others might need her more."

"You two aren't changing your minds, are you?" Bruce asked them surrendering, and both shook their head at the same time. "Fine, we'll restart our search for Selina, hopefully she and the Sirens will be willing to help us. Until then, rest, we start looking in two hours."

"Bruce," Dick stopped him from going further, "_thank you_." And it was so silly how much sentimentality he placed on those words, but the warm smile he got in return made it all the more worth it.

"You're welcome, Dick."

"And, Bruce?" Dick hesitated, after sharing a meaningful stare with Donna, "We also thought Hippolyta could secure Clark in the Island—it might be the safest place, what with him being sick—"

"—What?"

Dick blinked in confusion at the flabbergasted expressions on both adults in the room.

"Well, yeah; Clark seemed sick when we went to where you guys have him; we just assumed you knew—"

"There's been no direct contact with him either. I'll run some tests, in the meantime you two stay here; I'll come get you to look for Selina, I have a feeling Ivy might be more receptive on telling us where she is hiding."

"Wait, you'll really let us come with you?" Dick asked with a grin slowly coming to life.

"At this point, do you really have to ask?"

"Sorry—I guess I forgot we already had a conversation about this. Thanks though. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me, Dick; that's what I'm here for. By the way, don't be so upset about earlier; it's been some rough years for us, and we're still learning to know of each other again."

"…yeah. Just for the record—I did tell them it's your fault too."

"Agreed." Alfred added, and Bruce shook his head, heading to exit the door.

"Anyways, I'll get going. And nice change of costume." Bruce offered them a smile, the cowl back-on and he was off faster than Wally would like to leave a room with no food, leaving them feeling quite happy, despite the sour mood of the evening.

Things would be okay eventually. He was sure of it.

* * *

><p>(1) "[…] sorry,"<p>

(2) […] please don't let them." Spoken formal instead of informally. If informal it is "por favor no los dejes."

(3) "But they needed my help and I—I'm very sorry, papa, mama—"

(4) "Sweetie,"

(5) "We love you, Milagro. And we are proud of you."

(6) "Finally,"

(7) […] Look,"


End file.
